THE 


•••i 


C  N  AND  A  M 

WILLIAMSON 


THE    CHAUFFEUR    AND 

THE    CHAPERON 


OTHER    BOOKS    BY 
N.    AND    A.    M.    WILLIAMSON 


My  Friend  the  Chauffeur ',  Lady  Betty  Across  the   Water, 

Rosemary  in  Search  of  a  Father,  Princess  Virginia, 

The  Car  of  Destiny,   The  Princess  Passes, 

The  Lightning  Conductor 


She  absentmindedly  dropped  in  three,  while  talking  to  Starr 

[Page  146] 


THE    CHAUFFEUR    AND 

THE 

CHAPERON 


BY 


C.  N.  AND  A.  M.  WILLIAMSON 


ILLUSTRATIONS    BY    KARL    ANDERSON 

NEW    YORK 

THE    McCLURE    COMPANY 
M  C  M  V  1 1 1 


/ 


Copyright,  1907,  1908,  by  The  McClure  Company 


Copyright,  1906,  by  C.  N.  »nd  A.  M.  Williamson 


TO 
MR.  G.  VAN  DER  POT 

PRESIDENT    OF    THE    ROTTERDAM    SAILING    AND    ROWING     CLUB 

WHOSE      KIND      AND      NEVER-FAILING      HELP      ADDED 

TENFOIJ)      TO      THE      PLEASURES      OF      OUR 

VOYAGE     THROUGH      DELIGHTFUL 

DUTCH    WATERWAYS 

WE    DEDICATE 

THE  STORY  OF  THE  TOOK 


CONTENTS 
NELL  VAN  BUREN'S  POINT  OF  VIEW 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

I. 3 

II.      .             . 12 

III ' 23 

IV .      .  36 

V .      .  45 

VI \      .' 63 

VII .     .  72 

RUDOLPH  BREDERODE'S  POINT  OF  VIEW 

VIII ...'..  87 

IX 108 

X 118 

XI 134 

XII 147 

XIII 160 

XIV.      .      , .170 

XV. 178 

XVI 183 

XVII 190 

XVIII 200 

XIX 208 

XX.  222 


viii  THE  CHAPERON 

PHYLLIS  RIVERS'  POINT  OF  VIEW 

CHAPTER  EAGE 

XXI.       .       .       . 235 

XXII.      .      .. 243 

XXIII.      .      . .      .  260 

XXIV 270 

XXV 279 

XXVI 284 

RONALD  LESTER  STARR'S  POINT 
OF  VIEW 

XXVII.      .......  f 301 

XXVIII 314 

XXIX 328 

XXX 339 

XXXI.      .      . .348 

XXXII. 353 

XXXIII .      .  365 

XXXIV 369 

XXXV 384 

XXXVI.      .     ..  • 389 

XXXVII.                                                                      .      .  402 


LIST   OF   ILLUSTRATIONS 

SHE     ABSENTMINDEDLY     DROPPED     IN     THREE,     WHILE 

TALKING  TO  STARR Frontispiece 

FACING 

WE   WERE    CALLED    UPON   TO    PART    WITH  ALMOST    ALL      PAGE 

THE   GULDEN          .            .           .           .           .  .           .           .20 

"YOU    NEED    HAVE    NO     HESITATION     IN  GIVING     THE 

BOAT    TO    ME  " ,           .           .          24 

WE    BOTH     EXCLAIMED,     "OH,     ARE    YOU  HERE?"          .          42 

THERE  WAS  A  SUDDEN  STIR  IN  THE  GARDEN  .  .  96 
"IT'S  BLACK  MAGIC,"  SAID  AUNT  FAY  .  .  .  .  154 
WE  STOPPED  AT  HAARLEM  ONLY  LONG  ENOUGH  TO  DO 

REVERENCE  TO  FRANZ  HALS 168 

A  COUPLE  OF  GREAT  YELLOW  DOGS,  DRAWING  A  CART, 

SWORE  CANINE  OATHS  AGAINST  THE  CAR      .       .196 
STARR  INDUCED  THEM  TO  STAND  FOR  HIM,  THOUGH 

THEY  WERE  RELUCTANT  AND  SELF-CONSCIOUS      .     216 
I  WAS  GLAD  TO  STOOP  DOWN  AND  PAT  TlBE      .       ,     240 
SOLEMN  MEN  INSPECTING  BURNING  GLOBES,  AND  BAR 
GAINING   WITH   THEIR   POSSESSORS     ....       254 
SHE  LOOKED,   FOR  ALL  THE  WORLD,  LIKE  A  BEAUTIFUL 

FRISIAN  GIRL .       .        .     288 

IT  WAS  PHYLLIS  WHO  SHONE  AT  LILIENDAAL  ,  .-  320 
"WELL — HAVE  I  PLEASED  YOU?"  FREULE  MENELA 

ASKED    AT    LAST      .  .  .  .  .  .  .  344 

IT  WAS  A  RING  FOR  A  LOVER  TO  OFFER  TO  HIS  LADY  .  352 
AT  HIS  PRESENT  RATE  HE  WOULD  REACH  US  IN  ABOUT 

TWO    MINUTES  388 


THE    CHAUFFEUR    AND 

THE    CHAPERON 


NELL   VAN   BUREN'S   POINT   OF  VIEW 

I 

SOMETIMES  I  think  that  having  a  bath  is  the  nicest 
part  of  the  day,  especially  if  you  take  too  long  over 
it,  when  you  ought  to  be  hurrying. 

Phyllis  and  I  (Phil  is  my  stepsister,  though  she  is 
the  most  English  creature  alive)  have  no  proper  bath-room 
in  our  flat.  What  can  you  expect  for  forty  pounds  a  year,  even 
at  Clapham  ?  But  we  have  a  fitted-up  arrangement  in  the  box- 
room,  and  it  has  never  exploded  yet.  Phyllis  allows  herself 
ten  minutes  for  her  bath  every  morning,  just  as  she  allows  her 
self  five  minutes  for  her  prayers,  six  to  do  her  hair,  and  four 
for  everything  else,  except  when  she  wears  laced-up  boots;  but 
then,  she  has  principles,  and  I  have  none;  at  least,  I  have  no 
maxims.  And  this  morning,  just  because  there  were  lots  of 
things  to  do,  I  was  luxuriating  in  the  tub,  thinking  cool, 
delicious  thoughts. 

As  a  general  rule,  when  you  paint  glorious  pictures  for 
yourself  of  your  future  as  you  would  like  it  to  be,  it  clouds 
your  existence  with  gray  afterwards,  because  the  reality  is 
duller  by  contrast;  but  it  was  different  this  morning.  I  had 
stopped  awake  all  night  thinking  the  same  things,  and  I  was 
no  more  tired  of  the  thoughts  now  than  when  I  first  began. 

I  lay  with  my  eyes  shut,  sniffing  Eau  de  Cologne  (I'd  poured 
in  a  bottleful  for  a  kind  of  libation,  because  I  could  afford  to 
be  extravagant),  and  planning  what  a  delightful  future  we 
would  have. 

"I  should  love  to  chop  up  Phil's  type- writer  and  burn  the 

3 


4  THE   CHAPERON 

remains,"  I  said  to  myself;  "but  she's  much  more  likely  to 
put  it  away  in  lavender,  or  give  it  to  the  next-door-girl  with 
the  snub  nose.  Anyhow,  I  shall  never  have  to  write  another 
serial  story  for  Queen-Woman,  or  The  Fireside  Lamp,  or  any 
of  the  other  horrors.  Oh  the  joy  of  not  being  forced  to  create 
villains,  only  to  crush  them  in  the  end !  No  more  secret  doors 
and  coiners'  dens,  and  unnaturally  beautiful  dressmakers' 
assistants  for  me!  Instead  of  doing  typing  at  ninepence  a 
thousand  words  Phil  can  embroider  things  for  curates,  and 
instead  of  peopling  the  world  with  prigs  and  puppets  at  a 
guinea  a  thou',  I  can  —  oh,  I  can  do  anything.  I  don't  know 
what  I  shall  want  to  do  most,  and  that's  the  best  of  it — just 
to  know  I  can  do  it.  We'll  have  a  beautiful  house  in  a  nice 
part  of  town,  a  cottage  by  the  river,  and,  best  of  all,  we  can 
travel  —  travel  —  travel. " 

Then  I  began  to  furnish  the  cottage  and  the  house,  and 
was  putting  up  a  purple  curtain  in  a  white  marble  bath 
room  with  steps  down  to  the  bath,  when  a  knock  came  at 
the  door. 

I  knew  it  was  Phil,  for  it  could  be  nobody  else;  but  it  was 
as  unlike  Phil  as  possible  —  as  unlike  her  as  a  mountain  is  un 
like  itself  when  it  is  having  an  eruption. 

"Nell,"  she  called  outside  the  door.  "Nell,  darling!  Are  you 
ready?" 

"Only  just  begun,"  I  answered.  "I  shall  be  —  oh,  minutes 
and  minutes  yet.  Why  ?" 

"I  don't  want  to  worry  you,"  replied  Phil's  creamy  voice, 
with  just  a  little  of  the  cream  skimmed  off;  "but  —  do  make 
haste." 

"Have  you  been  cooking  something  nice  for  breakfast?" 
(Our  usual  meal  is  Quaker  oats,  with  milk;  and  tea,  of  course; 
Phil  would  think  it  sacrilegious  to  begin  the  day  on  any  other 
drink.) 

"Yes,  I  have.  And  it's  wasted. " 


NELL  VAN   BUREN'S  POINT   OF  VIEW       5 

"Have  you  spilt  — or  burnt  it  ?" 

"No;  but  there's  nothing  to  rejoice  over  or  celebrate,  after 
all;  at  least,  comparatively  nothing." 

"Good  gracious!  What  do  you  mean?"  I  shrieked,  with 
my  card-house  beginning  to  collapse,  while  the  Eau  de  Co 
logne  lost  its  savor  in  my  nostrils.  "Has  a  codicil  been  found 
to  Captain  Noble's  will,  as  in  the  last  number  of  my  serial 
for- 

"No;  but  the  post's  come,  with  a  letter  from  his  solicitor. 

Oh,  how  stupid  we  were  to  believe  what  Mrs.  Keithley  wrote 

-just  silly  gossip.  We  ought  to  have  remembered  that  she 

couldn't  know;  and  she  never  got  a  story  straight,  anyway. 

Do  hurry  and  come  out." 

"I've  lost  the  soap  now.  Everything  invariably  goes  wrong 
at  once.  I  can't  get  hold  of  it.  I  shall  probably  be  in  this  bath 
all  the  rest  of  my  life.  For  goodness'  sake,  what  does  the  law 
yer  man  say  ?" 

"I  can't  stand  here  yelling  such  things  at  the  top  of  my 
lungs." 

Then  I  knew  how  dreadfully  poor  Phil  was  really  upset,  for 
her  lovely  voice  was  quite  snappy ;  and  I've  always  thought  she 
would  not  snap  on  the  rack  or  in  boiling  oil.  As  for  me,  my 
bath  began  to  feel  like  that  —  boiling  oil,  I  mean;  and  I 
splashed  about  anyhow,  not  caring  whether  I  got  my  hair  wet 
or  not.  Because,  if  we  had  to  go  on  being  poor  after  our  great 
expectations,  nothing  could  possibly  matter,  not  even  looking 
like  a  drowned  rat. 

I  hadn't  the  spirit  to  coax  Phyllis,  but  I  might  have  known 
she  wouldn't  go  away,  really.  When  I  didn't  answer  except 
by  splashes  which  might  have  been  sobs,  she  went  on,  her 
mouth  apparently  at  the  crack  of  the  door 

"I  suppose  we  ought  to  be  thankful  for  such  mercies  as  have 
been  granted;  but  after  what  we'd  been  led  to  expect  - 

"What  mercies,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  remain  to  us  ?"  I  asked, 


6  THE   CHAPERON 

trying  to  restore  depressed  spirits  as  well  as  circulation  with 
a  towel  as  harsh  as  fate. 

"Two  hundred  pounds  and  a  motor-boat." 

"A  motor-boat  ?  For  goodness'  sake  /" 

"Yes.  The  pounds  are  for  me,  the  boat  for  you.  It  seems 
you  once  unfortunately  wrote  a  postcard,  and  told  poor  dear 
Captain  Noble  you  envied  him  having  it.  It's  said  to  be  as 
good  as  new;  so  there's  one  comfort,  you  can  sell  it  second 
hand,  and  perhaps  get  as  much  money  as  he  has  left  me." 

I  came  very  near  falling  down  again  in  the  bath  with  an 
awful  splash,  beneath  the  crushing  weight  of  disappointment, 
and  the  soap  slipping  under  my  foot. 

"Two  hundred  pounds  and  a  motor-boat  —  instead  of  all 
those  thousands!"  I  groaned  —  not  very  loudly;  but  Phil 
heard  me  through  the  door. 

"Never  mind,  dearest,"  she  called,  striving,  in  that  irritating 
way  saints  have,  to  be  cheerful  in  spite  of  all.  "It's  better 
than  nothing.  We  can  invest  it." 

"Invest  it!"  I  screamed.  "What  are  two  hundred  pounds 
and  a  motor-boat  when  invested  ?  " 

Evidently  she  was  doing  a  sum  in  mental  arithmetic.  After 
a  few  seconds'  silence  she  answered  bravely  — 

"About  twelve  pounds  a  year." 

"Hang  twelve  pounds  a  year!"  I  shrieked.  Then  some 
thing  odd  seemed  to  happen  in  my  inner  workings.  My  blood 
gave  a  jump  and  flew  up  to  my  head,  where  I  could  hear  it 
singing  —  a  wild,  excited  song.  Perhaps  it  was  the  Eau  de 
Cologne,  and  not  being  used  to  it  in  my  bath,  which  made  me 
feel  like  that.  "I  shan't  invest  my  motor-boat,"  I  said.  "I'm 
going  a  cruise  in  it,  and  so  are  you." 

"My  darling  girl,  I  hope  you  haven't  gone  out  of  your 
mind  from  the  blow!"  There  was  alarm  and  solicitude  in 
Phil's  accents.  "When  you've  slipped  on  your  dressing-gown 
and  come  out  we'll  talk  things  over. " 


NELL  VAN   BUREN'S   POINT  OP  VIEW       7 

"Nothing  can  make  me  change  my  mind,"  I  answered. 
"It's  been  made  up  a  whole  minute.  Everything  is  clear  now. 
Providence  has  put  a  motor-boat  into  our  hands  as  a  means  of 
seeing  life,  and  to  console  us  for  not  being  Captain  Noble's 
heiresses,  as  Mrs.  Keithley  wrote  we  were  going  to  be.  I  will 
not  fly  in  Providence's  face.  I  haven't  been  brought  up  to  it 
by  you.  We  are  going  to  have  the  time  of  our  lives  with  that 
motor-boat." 

The  door  shook  with  Phil's  disapproval.  "You  do  talk  like 
an  American,"  she  flung  at  me  through  the  panel. 

"That's  good.  I'm  glad  adoption  hasn't  ruined  me,"  I  re 
torted.  "But  could  you — just  because  you're  English — con 
tentedly  give  up  our  beautiful  plans,  and  settle  down  as  if 
nothing  had  happened  —  with  your  type- writer  ?  " 

"I  hope  I  have  the  strength  of  mind  to  bear  it,"  faltered 
Phyllis.  "We've  only  had  two  days  of  hoping  for  better 
things." 

"We've  only  lived  for  two  days.  There's  no  going  back; 
there  can't  be.  We've  burned  our  ships  behind  us,  and  must 
take  to  the  motor-boat. " 

"Dearest,  I  don't  think  this  is  a  proper  time  for  joking  — 
and  you  in  your  bath,  too,"  protested  Phil,  mildly. 

"I'm  out  of  it  now.  But  I  refuse  to  be  out  of  everything. 
Miss  Phyllis  Rivers  — why,  your  very  name's  a  prophecy !  —  I 
formally  invite  you  to  take  a  trip  with  me  in  my  motor-boat. 
It  may  cost  us  half,  if  not  more,  of  your  part  of  the  legacy; 
but  I  will  merely  borrow  from  you  the  wherewithal  to  pay  our 
expenses.  Somehow — afterwards  — I'll  pay  it  back,  even  if  I 
have  to  reestablish  communication  with  heavenly  shop-girls 
and  villainous  duchesses.  Oh,  Phil,  we'll  get  some  fun  out  of 
this,  after  all.  Anyhow,  we  shall  go  on  living  —  for  a  few  weeks. 
What  matter  if,  after  that,  the  deluge  ?" 

"You  speak  exactly  as  if  you  were  planning  to  be  an  ad 
venturess,"  said  Phyllis,  coldly. 


8  THE  CHAPERON 

"I  should  love  to  be  one,"  said  I.  "I've  always  thought  it 
must  be  more  fun  than  anything  —  till  the  last  chapter.  We'll 
both  embark  —  in  the  motor-boat  —  on  a  brief  but  bright  ca 
reer  as  adventuresses." 

With  that,  before  she  could  give  me  an  answer,  I  opened 
the  door  and  walked  out  in  my  dressing-gown,  so  suddenly 
that  she  almost  pitched  forward  into  the  bath.  Phyllis,  heard 
from  behind  a  cold,  unsympathetic  door,  and  Phyllis  seen  in 
all  her  virginal  Burne-Jones  attractiveness,  might  as  well  be 
two  different  girls.  If  you  carried  on  a  conversation  with  Miss 
Rivers  on  ethics  and  conventionalities  and  curates,  and  things 
of  that  kind  from  behind  a  door,  without  having  first  peeped 
round  to  see  what  she  was  like,  you  would  do  the  real  Phil  an 
injustice. 

There  is  nothing  pink  and  soft  and  dimpled  about  Phyllis's 
views  of  life  (or,  at  least,  what  she  supposes  her  views  to  be) ; 
but  about  Phyllis  in  flesh  and  blood  there  is  more  of  that  than 
anything  else;  which  is  one  reason  why  she  has  been  a  constant 
fountain  of  joy  to  my  heart  as  well  as  my  sense  of  humor, 
ever  since  her  clever  Herefordshire  father  married  my  pretty 
Kentucky  mother. 

Phil  would  like,  if  published,  to  be  a  Sunday-school  book, 
and  a  volume  of  "Good  Form  for  High  Society"  rolled  into 
one;  but  she  is  really  more  like  a  treatise  on  flower-gardens, 
and  a  recipe  for  making  Devonshire  junket  with  clotted 
cream. 

Not  that  she's  a  regular  beauty,  or  that  she  goes  in  for  any 
speciality  by  way  of  features  or  eyelashes,  or  hair,  or  a  figure, 
or  anything  really  sensational  of  that  sort,  as  I  do  in  one  or 
two  directions.  But  there's  a  rose  and  pearl  and  gold-brown 
adorableness  about  her;  you  like  her  all  the  better  for  some 
little  puritanical  quaintnesses;  and  if  you  are  an  Englishman 
or  an  American  girl,  you  long  to  bully  her. 

She  is  taller  than  I  am  (as  she  ought  to  be,  with  Burne- 


NELL   VAN   BUREN'S   POINT   OF   VIEW       9 

Jones  nose  and  eyes),  but  this  morning,  when  I  sprang  at  her 
out  of  the  bath-room,  like  a  young  tigress  escaped  from  its 
cage  on  its  ruthless  way  to  a  motor-boat,  she  looked  so  piteous 
and  yielding,  that  I  felt  I  could  carry  her  —  and  my  point  at 
the  same  time  —  half  across  the  world. 

She  had  made  cream  eggs  for  breakfast,  poor  darling  (I 
could  have  sobbed  on  them),  and  actually  coffee  for  me,  be 
cause  she  knows  I  love  it.  I  didn't  worry  her  any  more  until  an 
egg  and  a  cup  of  tea  were  on  duty  to  keep  her  strength  up,  and 
then  I  poured  plans,  which  I  made  as  I  went  on,  upon  her 
meekly  protesting  head. 

The  boat,  it  appeared,  lay  in  Holland,  which  fact,  as  I 
pointed  out  to  Phil,  was  another  sign  that  Providence  had  set 
its  heart  upon  our  using  her;  for  we've  always  wanted  to  see 
Holland.  We  often  said,  if  we  ever  took  a  holiday  from  serials 
and  the  type- writer,  we  would  go  to  Holland ;  but  somehow  the 
time  for  holidays  and  Holland  never  seemed  to  arrive.  Now, 
here  it  was;  and  it  would  be  the  time  of  our  lives. 

Poor  Captain  Noble  meant  to  use  the  boat  himself  this 
summer,  but  he  was  taken  ill  late  in  the  season  on  the  Riviera 
and  died  there.  It  was  from  Mentone  that  Mrs.  Keithley 
wrote  what  was  being  said  among  his  friends  about  a  huge 
legacy  for  us;  and  we,  poor  deluded  ones,  had  believed. 

Captain  Noble,  a  dear  old  retired  naval  officer,  was  a  friend 
of  Phyllis's  father  since  the  beginning  of  the  world,  and,  though 
Phil  was  sixteen  and  I  fifteen  when  our  respective  parents 
(widowed  both,  ages  before)  met  and  married,  the  good  man 
took  my  mother  also  to  his  heart.  Phil  and  I  have  been  alone 
in  the  world  together  now  for  three  years;  she  is  twenty-two, 
I  twenty-one.  Though  many  moons  have  passed  since  we  saw 
anything  of  Captain  Noble  except  picture  postcards,  we  were 
not  taken  entirely  by  surprise  when  we  heard  that  he  had 
left  us  a  large  legacy.  It  is  easy  to  get  used  to  nice  things,  and 
far  more  difficult  to  crawl  down  gracefully  from  gilded  heights. 


10  THE   CHAPERON 

Crawl  we  must,  however;  so  I  determined  it  should  be 
into  that  motor-boat  floating  idly  on  a  canal  in  Holland. 

The  letter  from  the  solicitor  (a  French  solicitor,  or  the 
equivalent,  writing  from  the  Riviera)  told  us  all  about  the 
boat  and  about  the  money.  The  boat  must  be  got  by  going  or 
sending  to  Rotterdam,  the  money  obtained  in  London. 

A  thirty  horse-power  (why  not  thirty  dolphin-power?)  motor- 
boat  sounds  very  grand  to  read  about;  and  as  I  recovered 
from  my  first  disappointment  I  began  to  feel  as  if  I'd  sudden 
ly  become  proprietor  of  a  whole  circus  full  of  champing  steeds. 
I  tried  to  persuade  Phyllis  that  I  should  write  better  stories 
if  I  could  travel  a  little  in  my  own  motor-boat,  as  it  would 
broaden  my  mind;  therefore  it  would  pay  in  the  end.  Besides, 
I  wasn't  sure  my  health  was  not -breaking  down  from  over 
strain;  not  only  that,  I  felt  it  would  be  right  to  go;  and,  any 
how,  I  just  would  go  —  so  there. 

I  argued  till  I  was  on  the  point  of  fainting  or  having  a  fit, 
and  I've  no  doubt  that  it  was  my  drawn  face  (what  face 
wouldn't  have  been  drawn  ?)  to  which  Phil's  soft  heart  and 
obstinate  mind  finally  succumbed. 

She  said  that,  as  I  seemed  determined  to  go  through  fire  and 
water  (I  never  heard  of  any  hot  springs  in  the  canals  of  Hol 
land),  she  supposed  she  would  have  to  stick  by  me,  for  she  was 
older  than  I  and  couldn't  allow  me  to  go  alone  under  any  con 
sideration,  especially  with  my  coloring  and  hair.  But,  though 
experience  of  me  had  accustomed  her  to  shocks  and,  she  must 
confess,  to  sacrifices,  she  had  never  expected  until  now  that  she 
would  be  called  upon  for  my  sake  to  become  an  adventuress. 

As  for  the  two  hundred  pounds,  that  part  didn't  signify.  I 
needn't  suppose  she  was  thinking  of  it;  thank  Heaven,  wheth 
er  we  worked  or  were  idle  we  would  still  have  our  settled  hun 
dred  and  twenty  pounds  a  year  each.  It  was  our  reputation  for 
which  she  cared  most,  and  she  was  sure  the  least  evil  that 
could  befall  us  would  be  to  blow  up. 


NELL   VAN   BUREN'S   POINT   OF   VIEW      11 

"Better  do  it  on  a  grand  scale  in  a  thirty  horse-power 
motor-boat  than  in  a  gas-meter  bath-tub  of  a  five-room  flat  in 
Clapham,"  I  remarked;  and  somehow  that  silenced  Phyllis, 
except  for  a  sigh. 

Since  then  I've  been  in  a  whirl  of  excitement  preparing  my 
watery  path  as  a  motor-boat  adventuress,  and  buying  a  dress 
or  two  to  suit  the  part.  It  doesn't  even  depress  me  that  Phil 
has  selected  hers  with  the  air  of  acquiring  a  serviceable  shroud. 

I've  finished  up  three  serials  in  as  many  days,  killing  off 
my  villains  like  flies,  and  creating  a  perfect  epidemic  of  hastily 
made  matches  among  titled  heroes  and  virtuous  nursery 
governesses.  Scarcely  an  aristocratic  house  in  England  that 
wouldn't  shake  to  its  foundations  if  fiction  were  fact;  but  then 
my  fiction  isn't  of  the  kind  that  anything  short  of  a  dislocated 
universe  could  possibly  make  fact. 

Phyllis,  with  the  face  of  a  tragic  Muse,  has  been  writing 
letters  to  her  clients  recommending  another  typist  —  quite  a 
professional  sort  of  person,  who  was  her  understudy  once,  a 
year  or  so  ago,  when  she  thoughtlessly  allowed  herself  to  come 
down  with  measles. 

"Miss  Brown  never  puts  *q*  instead  of  'a,'  or  gets  chapter 
titles  on  one  side;  and  she  knows  how  to  make  the  loveliest 
curlicues  under  her  headings.  Nobody  will  ever  want  me 
to  come  back,"  the  poor  girl  wailed. 

"All  the  better  for  them,  if  you're  going  to  blow  up,  as 
you  are  convinced  you  will,"  I  strove  to  console  her,  as  I  tried 
on  a  yachting-cap,  reduced  to  two  three-farthings  from  four 
shillings.  But  she  merely  shuddered.  And  now,  when  at  last 
we  have  shut  up  the  flat,  turned  the  key  upon  our  pasts,  and 
got  irrevocably  on  board  the  "Batavier"  boat,  which  will  land 
us  in  Rotterdam,  she  has  moaned  more  than  once,  "I  feel  as 
if  nothing  would  be  the  same  with  us  ever,  ever  again." 

"So  do  I,"  I've  answered  unfeelingly.  "And  I'm  glad." 


II 

THIS  is  the  first  time  I  have  been  on  a  sea-going  ship 
since   I   crossed   from  America  with  my   mother, 
neither  of  us  dreaming  that  she  would  settle  down 
and  give  me  an  Englishman  for  a  stepfather.  As 
for  Phil,  she  has  no  memories  outside  her  native  land  —  except 
early  ones  of  Paris  —  and,  though  she  has  a  natural  instinct 
for  the  preservation  of  her  young  life,  I  don't  doubt  that  every 
motion  of  the  big  boat  in  the  night  made  her  realize  how 
infinitely  more  decorous  it  would  be  to  drown  on  the  "Batavier 
4 "  than  in  a  newfangled  motor  thing  on  an  obscure  foreign 
canal. 

The  Thames  we  have  seen  before,  in  all  its  bigness  and 
richness  and  black  ugliness;  for  on  hot  summer  days  we  have 
embarked  on  certain  trips  which  would  condemn  us  forever  in 
the  eyes  of  duchesses,  countesses,  and  other  ladies  of  title  I 
have  known  serially,  in  instalments.  But  we  (or  rather,  I) 
chose  to  reach  Holland  by  water,  as  it  seems  a  more  appro 
priate  preface  to  our  adventure;  and  I  got  Phyllis  up  before 
five  in  the  morning,  not  to  miss  by  any  chance  the  first  sight 
of  the  Low  Lands. 

We  were  only  just  in  time,  for  we  hadn't  had  our  coffee 
and  been  dressed  many  minutes  before  my  eyes  caught  at  a 
line  of  land  as  a  drowning  person  is  supposed  to  catch  at  a 
straw. 

"Holland!"  said  I;  which  was  not  particularly  intelligent 
in  me,  as  it  couldn't  have  been  anything  else. 

There  it  lay,  this  stage  set  for  our  drama,  comedy,  tragedy  — 
whatever  it  may  prove  —  of  which  we  don't  yet  know  the 

12 


NELL   VAN   BUREN'S   POINT   OF   VIEW      13 

plot,  although  we  are  the  heroines;  and  now  that  I'm  writing 
in  a  Rotterdam  hotel  the  curtain  may  be  said  to  have  rung  up 
on  the  first  act. 

Just  then  it  was  lifted  only  far  enough  to  show  a  long,  low 
waste  of  gray-green,  with  a  tuft  or  two  of  trees  and  a  few 
shadowy  individuals,  which  the  stage-hands  had  evidently  set 
in  motion  for  the  benefit  of  the  leading  ladies. 

"We  might  be  the  Two  Orphans,"  I  said,  "only  you're 
not  blind,  Phil — except  in  your  sense  of  humor;  and  I'm 
afraid  there  are  no  wicked  Dutch  noblemen  to  kidnap  me 

"Oh  dear,  I'm  sure  I  hope  not!"  exclaimed  Phil,  looking 
as  if  a  new  feather  had  been  heaped  on  her  load  of  anxieties. 

The  line  was  no  longer  gray  now,  nor  was  it  a  waste.  It 
was  a  bright  green,  floating  ribbon,  brocaded  with  red  flowers; 
and  soon  it  was  no  ribbon,  but  a  stretch  of  grassy  meadow,  and 
the  red  flowers  were  roofs;  yet  meadows  and  roofs  were  not 
just  common  meadows  and  roofs,  for  they  belonged  to 
Holland;  and  everybody  knows  —  even  those  who  haven't 
seen  it  yet  —  that  Holland  is  like  no  country  in  the  world, 
except  its  queer,  cozy,  courageous,  obstinate  little  self. 

The  sky  was  blue  to  welcome  us,  and  housewifely  Dutch 
angels  were  beating  up  the  fat,  white  cloud-pillows  before 
tucking  them  under  the  horizon  out  of  sight.  Even  the  air 
seemed  to  have  been  washed  till  it  glittered  with  crystalline 
clearness  that  brought  each  feature  of  the  landscape  strangely 
close  to  the  eyes. 

We  were  in  the  River  Maas,  which  opened  its  laughing 
mouth  wide  to  let  in  our  boat.  But  soon  it  was  so  busy  with 
its  daily  toil  that  it  forgot  to  smile  and  look  its  best  for  strang 
ers.  We  saw  it  in  its  brown  working-dress,  giving  water  to 
ugly  manufactories,  and  floating  an  army  of  big  ships,  black 
lighters,  and  broadly  built  craft,  which  coughed  spasmodically 
as  they  forged  sturdily  and  swiftly  through  the  waters.  Their 
breath  was  like  the  whiff  that  comes  from  an  automobile,  and 


14  THE   CHAPERON 

I  knew  that  they  must  be  motor-barges.  My  heart  warmed  to 
them.  They  seemed  to  have  been  sent  out  on  purpose  to  say, 
"Your  fun  is  going  to  begin* " 

At  last  we  were  in  Rotterdam,  steaming  slowly  between 
two  lines  of  dignified  quays,  ornamented  with  rows  of  trees 
and  backed  by  quaintly  built,  many-colored  brick  houses  — 
blue  and  green  and  pink,  some  nodding  forward,  some  leaning 
back.  The  front  walls  were  carried  up  to  conceal  the  roofs; 
many  of  the  facades  tapered  into  triangles;  others  had  double 
curves  like  a  swan's  neck;  some  were  cut  into  steps  —  so  that 
there  was  great  variety,  and  an  effect  almost  Chinese  about 
the  architecture  of  the  queer  houses  with  the  cranes  projecting 
over  their  topmost  windows.  There  was  nothing  to  be  called 
beautiful,  but  it  was  all  impressive  and  interesting,  because  so 
different  from  that  part  of  the  world  which  we  know. 

A  gigantic  railway  bridge  of  latticed  iron  flung  itself  across 
the  skyline;  one  huge  white  building,  like  a  New  York  sky 
scraper,  towered  head  and  shoulders  above  the  close-leaning 
roofs  of  the  city;  and  all  among  the  houses  were  brown  sails 
and  masts  of  ships;  water-streets  and  land-streets  tangled 
inseparably  together. 

The  hum  of  life  —  strange,  foreign  life!  —  filled  the  air;  an 
indescribable,  exciting  sound,  made  up  of  the  wind  whistling 
among  cordage  of  sea-going  ships,  the  shouts  of  men  at  work, 
the  river  slapping  against  piles  and  the  iron  sides  of  vessels, 
the  whirr  and  clank  of  steam-cranes.  Wreaths  of  brown  smoke 
blew  gustily  in  the  sunlight ;  a  train  boomed  across  the  latticed 
bridge;  and  the  hoot  of  a  siren  tore  all  other  sounds  in  shreds. 
Creakily  our  ship  was  warped  in  by  straining  cables,  and  I 
said  to  myself,  "The  overture's  finished.  The  play  is  going  to 
begin." 

Phil  and  I  streamed  off  the  boat  with  the  other  passengers, 
who  had  the  air  of  knowing  exactly  why  they'd  come,  where 
they  were  going,  and  what  was  the  proper  thing  to  do  next. 


NELL   VAN    BUREN'S   POINT   OF   VIEW     15 

But  as  soon  as  we  were  landed  on  the  most  extraordinary 
place,  which  looked  as  if  trees  and  houses  had  sprouted  on 
a  dyke,  all  consecutive  ideas  were  ground  out  of  our  heads  in 
the  mill  of  confusing  sights  and  sounds.  Friends  were  meeting 
each  other,  and  jabbering  something  which  sounded  at  a 
distance  like  Glasgow-English,  and  like  no  known  language 
when  you  were  close  enough  to  catch  the  words.  Porters 
surged  round  us,  urging  the  claims  of  rival  hotels;  men  in 
indigo  cotton  blouses  pleaded  for  our  luggage;  and  altogether 
we  were  overwhelmed  by  a  tidal  wave  of  Dutchness. 

How  order  finally  came  out  of  chaos  I  hardly  know;  but 
when  I  got  my  breath  it  occurred  to  me  that  we  might  tem 
porarily  abandon  our  big  luggage  and  steer  through  the 
crowd,  with  dressing-bags  in  our  hands,  to  hail  an  elderly  cab 
whose  driver  had  early  selected  us  as  prey. 

Before  getting  into  the  vehicle  I  paused,  and  tried  to  con 
centrate  my  mind  on  plans;  though  the  quaint  picture  of  the 
Boompjes,  and  the  thought  that  we,  Phyllis  Rivers  and  Nell 
Van  Buren,  should  be  on  the  Boompjes  was  distracting.  I 
did  manage,  however,  to  find  our  boat's  address  and  the 
name  of  the  caretaker,  both  of  which  I  had  on  a  piece  of  paper 
with  loose  "i's"  and  "j's"  scattered  thickly  through  every 
word.  All  we  had  to  do,  therefore,  was  to  tell  our  moth-eaten 
cabman  to  drive  to  the  place,  show  the  letters  from  the  solici 
tor  (and  perhaps  a  copy  of  Captain  Noble's  will),  claim  our 
property  from  the  hands  of  Jan  Paasma,  and  then,  if  we  liked, 
take  up  our  quarters  on  our  own  boat  until  we  could  engage 
some  one  to  "work  it"  for  our  tour.  Luckily,  we'd  had  coffee 
and  rolls  on  board  the  "Batavier";  so  we  needn't  bother  about 
breakfast,  as  I  said  joyously  to  Phil. 

But  Phil,  it  seemed,  did  not  regard  breakfast  as  a  bother. 
She  thought  it  would  be  fatal  to  throw  ourselves  into  a  for 
midable  undertaking  unless  we  first  had  tea  and  an  egg,  and 
somebody  to  advise  us. 


16  THE   CHAPERON 

"We  must  go  to  an  hotel  before  we  see  the  boat,"  said  she, 
firmly. 

"But  who's  to  give  us  advice  at  a  hotel  ?"  I  asked  with 
scorn. 

"Oh,  I  don't  know.  The  manager." 

"Managers  of  hotels  aren't  engaged  to  advise  young  women 
about  motor-boats. n 

"Well,  then,  a  —  a  waiter." 

"A  waiter  /" 

"We  could  ask  the  head  one.  And,  anyway,  he  would  be 
a  man." 

"My  darling  child,  have  we  ever  depended  on  a  man  since 
your  father  died?" 

"We've  never  had  emergencies,  except  taking  our  flat  —  oh, 
and  buying  my  type-writer.  Besides,  I  can't  bear  all  I  shall 
have  to  bear  without  a  cup  of  tea." 

This  settled  it.  We  climbed  into  that  frail  shell,  our  chosen 
cab,  and  I  opened  the  Dutch  phrase-book  which  I  bought  in 
London.  I  wanted  to  find  out  what  hotel  was  nearest  to  the 
lair  of  our  boat,  but  in  that  wild  moment  I  could  discover 
nothing  more  appropriate  than  "I  wish  immediately  some 
medicine  for  seasickness,"  and  (hastily  turning  over  the  pages) 
"I  have  lost  my  pet  cat."  I  began  mechanically  to  stammer 
French  and  the  few  words  of  German  which  for  years  have 
lain  peacefully  buried  in  the  dustiest  folds  of  my  intellect. 

"Oh,  dear,  how  shall  I  make  him  understand  what  we 
want?"  I  groaned,  my  nerves  quivering  under  the  pitying 
eye  of  the  cabman,  and  the  early-Christian-martyr  expression 
of  Phyllis. 

"Don't  ask  me,"  said  she,  in  icy  vengef ulness ;  "you  would 
bring  me  to  Holland,  and  I  shouldn't  speak  Dutch  if  I  could." 

"I  spik  Eengleesh,"  announced  the  cabman. 

I  could  have  fallen  upon  his  bosom,  which,  though  littered 
with  dust  and  grease-spots,  I  was  sure  concealed  a  noble 


NELL   VAN   BUREN'S   POINT   OF   VIEW     17 

heart.  But  I  contented  myself  with  taking  him  into  my  con 
fidence.  I  said  we  had  a  motor-boat,  and  wanted  to  go  to  a 
hotel  as  near  it  as  possible.  I  then  showed  the  precious  paper 
with  the  "i's"  and  "j's"  dotted  about,  and  he  nodded  so  much 
that  his  tall  hat,  which  looked  like  a  bit  cut  out  of  a  rusty 
stove-pipe,  almost  fell  off  on  my  nose. 

"You  get  on  my  carriage,  and  I  drive  you  to  where  you 
want,"  he  replied  reassuringly,  making  of  our  luggage  a  rest 
ing-place  for  his  honest  boots,  and  climbing  into  his  seat. 

Magnetized  by  his  manner,  we  obeyed,  and  it  was  not  until 
we  had  started,  rattling  over  the  stone-paved  street,  that  Phil 
bethought  herself  of  an  important  detail. 

"Wait  a  moment.  Ask  him  if  it's  a  nice  hotel  where  he's 
taking  us." 

I  stood  up,  seized  the  railing  of  the  driver's  seat  to  steady 
myself,  and  shrieked  the  question  above  the  noise  of  the 
wheels. 

"I  take  you  right  place,"  he  returned;  and  I  repeated  the 
sentence  to  Phyllis. 

"That's  no  answer.  Ask  him  if  it's  respectable;  we  can't 
go  if  it  isn't.  Ask  him  if  it's  expensive;  we  can't  go  if  it  is. " 

I  yelled  the  message. 

"I  take  you  hotel  by-and-by.  You  see  Rotterdam  a  little 
first." 

"But  we  don't  want  to  see  Rotterdam  first.  We  want  break 
fast.  Rotterdam  by-and-by." 

A  sudden  bump  flung  me  down  onto  the  hard  seat.  I  half 
rose  to  do  battle  again;  then,  as  I  gazed  up  at  that  implacable 
Dutch  back,  I  began  dimly  to  understand  how  Holland, 
though  a  dot  of  a  nation,  tired  out  and  defeated  fiery  Spain. 
I  knew  that  no  good  would  be  accomplished  by  resisting  that 
back.  Short  of  hurling  ourselves  out  on  the  stones,  we  would 
have  to  see  Rotterdam,  so  we  might  as  well  make  the  best 
of  it.  And  this  I  urged  upon  Phil,  with  reproaches  for  her 


18  THE   CHAPERON 

niggardliness  in  not  buying  Baedeker,  who  would  have  put 
stars  to  tell  us  the  names  of  hotels,  and  given  us  crisp  maps 
to  show  where  they  were  situated  in  connection  with  other 
things. 

I  should  think  few  people  who  have  lived  in  Rotterdam  for 
years  have  really  seen  as  much  of  the  town  as  we  saw  on  this 
clear  blue  morning. 

At  first  the  information  bestowed  upon  us  by  the  owner  of 
the  back  seemed  an  adding  of  insult  to  injury.  How  dared  he 
explain  what  he  was  forcing  us  to  see  in  spite  of  ourselves  ? 
But,  by-and-by,  even  Phyllis  fell  to  laughing,  and  her  dimples 
are  to  her  temper  what  rainbows  are  to  thunder-showers  — 
once  they  are  out  there  can  be  no  more  storm. 

"I  feel  as  if  we'd  seen  samples  of  all  Holland,  and  were 
ready  to  go  to  our  peaceful  home  again,"  said  Phil,  after  we'd 
driven  about  from  the  region  of  big  shops  and  imposing  ar 
cades,  to  shady  streets  mirroring  brown  mansions  in  glassy 
canals;  on  to  toy  villages  of  miniature  painted  houses,  stand 
ing  in  flowery  gardens,  far  below  the  level  of  adjacent  ponds 
adorned  with  flower-islands;  through  large  parks  and  intricate 
plantations;  past  solemnly  flapping  windmills;  far  beyond,  to 
meadows  where  black  and  white  cows  recognized  the  fact  that 
we  were  not  Dutch  and  despised  us  for  it;  then  back  to  parks 
and  gardens  again.  "I  shouldn't  think  there  could  be  any  sort 
of  characteristic  thing  left  which  we  haven't  met  with.  I'm 
sure  I  could  go  home  now  and  talk  intelligently  about  Hol 
land." 

We  couldn't  help  being  interested  in  everything,  though  we 
were  seeing  it  against  our  wills;  yet  it  was  a  relief  to  our 
feelings  when  the  Back  unbent  to  the  extent  of  stopping  be 
fore  an  old-fashioned,  low-built  hotel,  close  to  a  park.  So  far 
as  we  could  judge,  it  was  miles  from  anywhere,  and  had  no 
connection  with  anything  else;  but  we  were  too  thankful  for 
the  privilege  of  stopping,  to  be  critical.  The  house  had  an  air 


NELL   VAN   BUREN'S   POINT   OF  VIEW     19 

of  quiet  rectitude  which  appealed  to  Phil,  and  without  a  word 
she  allowed  our  luggage  to  be  taken  off  the  cab. 

When  we  came  to  pay,  it  appeared  that  our  driver  hadn't 
made  us  acquainted  with  every  secret  of  Rotterdam,  purely  in 
a  spirit  of  generosity.  We  were  called  upon  to  part  with  almost 
all  the  gulden  we  had  got  in  exchange  for  shillings  on  board 
the  boat,  and  Phil  looked  volumes  as  it  dawned  on  her  in 
telligence  that  each  one  of  these  coins  (with  the  head  of  an 
incredibly  mild  and  whiskered  old  gentleman  upon  it)  was 
worth  one  and  eightpence. 

"At  this  rate  we  shall  soon  be  in  the  poorhouse,"  she  said. 

"  If  it  comes  to  that,  we  can  stop  the  motor-boat  at  villages 
and  solicit  alms,"  I  suggested. 

After  all,  the  Back  had  had  some  method  in  its  madness, 
for  on  showing  the  caretaker's  address  to  a  giant  hall-porter, 
it  appeared  that  the  place  was  within  ten  minutes'  walk  of  the 
hotel.  We  refused  to  decide  upon  rooms  until  our  future  plans 
had  shaped  themselves;  and  our  luggage  reposed  in  the  hall 
while  we  had  cups  of  tea  and  a  Dutch  conception  of  toast  in  a 
garden,  whose  charms  we  shared  with  a  rakish  wandering 
Jew  of  a  tortoise. 

Many  times  since  I  induced  Phyllis  to  join  me  in  becoming 
an  adventuress,  have  we  vaguely  arranged  what  we  would  do 
on  arriving  at  Rotterdam.  The  program  seemed  simple  enough 
from  a  distance  —  just  to  go  and  pick  up  our  boat  (so  to 
speak)  and  motor  away  with  it;  but  when  we  actually  started 
off,  pioneered  by  a  small  boy  from  the  hotel,  to  take  posses 
sion  of  our  property,  I  had  a  horrid  sinking  of  the  heart,  which 
I  wouldn't  for  many  heads  of  whiskered  old  gentlemen  on 
gulden  have  confessed  to  Phil.  I  felt  that  "something  was  going 
to  happen." 

The  "ten  minutes'"  walk  prolonged  itself  into  twenty,  and 
then  there  was  a  ferry  over  a  wide,  brown,  swift-flowing 
stream.  This  brought  us  to  a  little  basin  opening  from  the 


20  THE   CHAPERON 

river,  where  one  or  two  small  yachts  and  other  craft  nestled 
together. 

"Look!"  I  exclaimed,  with  a  sudden  throb  of  excitement, 
which  bubbled  up  like  a  geyser  through  the  cold  crust  of  my 
depression.  "  TJiere  she  is !" 

"Who  ?"  cried  Phyllis,  starting.  "Any  one  we  know  ?" 

"Our  boat,  silly.  *  Lorelei.'  I  suppose  you  think  she  ought 
to  be  called  *  White  Elephant'  ?" 

Yes,  there  she  was,  with  "Lorelei"  in  gold  letters  on  her 
bows,  this  fair  siren  who  had  lured  us  across  the  North  Sea; 
and  instead  of  being  covered  up  and  shabby  to  look  at  after 
her  long  winter  of  retirement  and  neglect,  she  had  the  air  of 
being  ready  to  start  off  at  a  moment's  notice  to  begin  a  cruise. 

Every  detail  of  her  smart  white  dress  looked  new.  There 
was  no  fear  of  delay  for  painting  and  patching.  Clean  cocoa- 
nut  matting  was  spread  upon  the  floor  of  the  little  decks  fore 
and  aft;  the  brass  rails  dazzled  our  eyes  with  their  brilliance; 
the  windows  of  the  roofed  cabin  were  brighter  than  the  Ko- 
hi-nur,  the  day  I  went  to  see  it  in  the  Tower  of  London; 
basket-chairs,  with  pink  and  blue  and  primrose  silk  cushions, 
stood  on  deck,  their  arms  open  in  a  welcoming  gesture.  There 
was  a  little  table,  too,  which  looked  born  and  bred  for  a  tea- 
table.  It  really  was  extraordinary. 

"Oh,  Nell,  it  is  a  pretty  boat!"  The  words  were  torn  from 
Phil  in  reluctant  admiration.  "Of  course  it's  most  awfully 
reckless  of  us  to  have  come,  and  I  don't  see  what's  going  to 
happen  in  the  end ;  but  —  but  it  does  seem  as  if  we  might  enjoy 
ourselves.  Fancy  having  tea  on  our  own  deck !  Why,  it's  al 
most  a  yacht!  I  wonder  what  Lady  Hutchinson  would  say 
if  she  could  see  us  sitting  in  those  chairs !  She'd  be  polite  to 
me  for  a  whole  month. " 

Lady  Hutchinson  is  Phil's  one  titled  client.  Long  ago  her 
husband  was  a  grocer.  She  writes  sentimental  poetry,  and  her 
idea  of  dignity  is  to  snub  her  type-writer.  But  I  couldn't  con- 


We  were  called  upon  to  part   with  almost  all  ilie  gulden 


NELL   VAN   BUREN'S   POINT   OF   VIEW     21 

centrate  my  mind  on  the  pleasure  of  astonishing  Lady  Hutch- 
inson.  I  was  thinking  what  a  wonderful  caretaker  Jan  Paasma 
must  be. 

"Conscientious"  hardly  expressed  him,  because  it's  almost  a 
year  since  Captain  Noble  used  "Lorelei, "and  we  hadn't  writ 
ten  that  we  wTere  coming  to  claim  her;  yet  here  she  was,  en  fete 
for  our  reception.  But  then,  I  thought,  perhaps  our  dear  old 
friend  had  left  instructions  to  keep  the  boat  always  ready.  It 
would  be  rather  like  him :  and,  in  any  case,  we  should  soon  know 
all,  as  Mr.  Paasma's  dwelling  is  a  little  green  house  close  to  the 
miniature  quay.  We  saw  his  name  over  the  door,  for  evidently 
he  doesn't  entirely  depend  upon  his  guardianship  of  boats  for 
a  livelihood.  He  owns  a  shop,  with  indescribable  things  in  the 
one  cramped  but  shining  window  —  things  which  only  those 
who  go  down  to  the  sea  in  ships  could  possibly  wish  to  have. 

For  all  we  could  tell  he  might  be  on  board  the  boat,  which 
floated  a  yard  or  two  from  shore,  moored  by  ropes;  but  it 
seemed  more  professional  to  seek  Mr.  Paasma  under  his  own 
roof,  and  we  did  so,  nearly  falling  over  a  stout  child  who  was 
scrubbing  the  floor  of  the  shop. 

"What  a  queer  time  of  day  to  be  cleaning  —  eleven  o'clock," 
muttered  Phil,  having  just  saved  herself  from  a  tumble.  I 
thought  so  too;  but  then  we'd  been  in  Holland  only  a  few 
hours.  WTe  hadn't  yet  realized  the  relative  importance  of  cer 
tain  affairs  of  life,  according  to  a  Dutchwoman's  point  of  view. 

We  glared  reproachfully  at  the  stout  child,  as  much  as  to 
say,  "Why  don't  you  finish  your  swabbing  at  a  proper  hour  ?" 
She  glared  at  us  as  if  she  would  have  demanded,  "What  the 
(Dutch)  Dickens  do  you  mean  by  bouncing  in  and  upsetting 
my  arrangements  ?" 

Little  was  accomplished  on  either  side  by  this  skirmishing; 
so  I  put  my  pride  in  my  pocket  and  inquired  for  her  master. 

"Boot,"  replied  the  creature.  "Boot,"  pointing  with  her 
mop  in  the  direction  whence  we  had  come. 


22  THE  CHAPERON 

We  understood  by  this  that  the  caretaker  was  at  his  post, 
and  we  returned  to  shout  the  name  of  Heer  Paasma. 

Nothing  happened  at  first;  but  after  several  spasmodic 
repetitions  a  blue  silk  curtain  flickered  at  one  of  the  cabin 
windows  on  "Lorelei,"  and  a  little,  old,  brown  face,  with  a 
fringe  of  fluff  round  the  chin,  appeared  in  the  aperture  —  a 
walnut  of  a  face,  with  a  pair  of  shrewd,  twinkling  eyes,  and  a 
pipe  in  a  slit  of  a  mouth.  Another  call  brought  on  deck  a  figure 
which  matched  the  face;  and  on  deck  Mr.  Paasma  (it  looked 
like  a  gnome,  but  it  could  be  no  other  than  the  caretaker) 
evidently  intended  to  remain  until  he  got  a  satisfactory  ex 
planation. 


Ill 

' '    A    RE  you  Heer  Paasma  ?"  I  inquired  from  my  distance. 

/\  The  walnut  nodded. 

j£  J^       "Do  you  speak  English  ?" 

Out  came  the  pipe.  "Ja,  a  leetle." 

"We're  Miss  Rivers  and  Miss  Van  Buren,  from  England. 
I'm  Miss  Van  Buren.  You  have  heard  about  me,  and  that 
Captain  Noble  left  me  his  motor-boat  in  his  will." 

"No,  I  not  heerd."  A  dark  flush  slowly  turned  the  sharp 
little  walnut  face  to  mahogany. 

"How  strange!  I  thought  the  solicitor  would  have  written. 
But  perhaps  it  wasn't  necessary.  Anyway,  I  have  all  the 
papers  to  prove  that  the  boat  is  mine.  You  did  know  poor 
Captain  Noble  was  dead,  surely  ?" 

"Ja,  I  hear  that." 

"Well,  if  you'll  put  a  plank  across,  we'll  come  on  board, 
and  I'll  show  you  my  papers  and  explain  everything." 

"I  come  on  shore,"  said  Mr.  Paasma. 

"No,  we  would  rather  — 

I  might  have  saved  my  breath.  Mr.  Paasma  was  Dutch, 
and  he  had  made  up  his  mind  what  would  be  best.  The  rest 
goes  without  saying.  He  seized  one  of  the  ropes,  hauled  the 
boat  closer  to  shore,  and  sprang  onto  the  bank. 

There  was  a  strange  glitter  in  his  eye.  I  supposed  it  to 
be  the  bleak  glint  of  suspicion,  and  hastened  to  reassure  the 
excellent  man  by  producing  my  papers,  pointing  out  para 
graphs  which  I  placed  conspicuously  under  h;3  nose,  in  our 
copy  of  Captain  Noble's  will,  and  the  letters  I  had  received 
from  the  solicitor. 

23 


24  THE   CHAPERON 

"You  see,"  I  said  at  last,  "everything  is  all  right.  You  need 
have  no  hesitation  in  giving  the  boat  to  me. " 

Mr.  Paasma  puffed  at  his  pipe,  which  he  held  very  tight 
between  his  teeth,  and  stared  at  the  papers  without  look 
ing  up. 

"If  you  like,  you  can  apply  to  your  lawyer,  if  you  have 
one,"  I  went  on,  seeing  that  he  was  far  from  easy  in  his  mind. 
"I'm  quite  willing  to  meet  him.  Besides" —  I  had  suddenly  a 
brilliant  idea  — "I  have  relations  in  Rotterdam.  Their  name 
is  the  same  as  mine  —  van  Buren.  Perhaps  you  have  heard  of 
Heer  Robert  van  Buren  ?" 

"Ja,"  replied  Mr.  Paasma,  biting  his  pipe  still  harder. 
Instead  of  looking  happy,  his  face  grew  so  troubled  that  I 
wondered  whether  my  mention  of  these  unknown  relatives  had 
been  unfortunate  —  whether,  by  any  chance,  a  member  of  the 
family  had  lately  committed  some  crime.  Meanwhile,  Phyllis 
stared.  For  my  own  reasons  I  had  refrained  from  speaking  to 
her  of  these  relations;  now,  urged  by  necessity,  I  brought  them 
to  light;  but  what  they  might  be,  or  whether  they  still  existed 
in  Rotterdam  I  knew  no  more  than  did  Phil. 

"Mynheer  van  Buren  is  a  known  man,"  said  the  caretaker. 
"You  not  send  for  him.  I  think  the  boat  is  to  you,  missus. 
What  you  want  do  ?" 

"First  of  all,  we  want  to  go  on  board  and  look  at  her,"  I 
replied. 

This  time,  rather  to  my  surprise,  he  made  no  objections. 
A  dark  pall  of  resignation  had  fallen  upon  him.  In  such  a 
mood  as  his,  an  Indian  woman  would  go  to  Suttee  without  a 
qualm.  He  pulled  the  boat  to  shore,  placed  a  plank,  and  with 
a  thrilling  pride  of  possession  we  walked  on  board. 

There  were  some  steep  steps  which  led  down  from  the 
deck  to  the  cabin,  and  Phyllis  and  I  descended,  Mr.  Paasma 
stolidly  following,  with  an  extraordinary  expression  on  his 
walnut  face.  It  was  not  exactly  despairing,  or  defiant,  or 


Yon  need  liave  no  hesitation  in  giving  the  boat  to  me" 


NELL   VAN    BUREN'S    POINT    OF   VIEW     25 

angry,  or  puzzled;  but  it  held  something  of  each  one  of  these 
emotions. 

However,  I  soon  forgot  about  the  caretaker  and  his  feelings 
in  admiration  of  "Lorelei."  Aft,  you  looked  down  into  the  mo 
tor-room,  with  a  big  monster  of  machinery,  which  I  respected 
but  didn't  understand.  From  that,  when  you'd  crossed  a  little 
passage,  you  had  to  go  down  some  more  steps  into  a  cabin 
which  was  so  charming  that  I  stood  still  on  the  threshold,  and 
said,  "Oh!" 

"Why,  it's  prettier  than  our  drawing-room!"  exclaimed 
Phil;  "and  my  favorite  colors  too,  green  and  white.  It's  almost 
like  a  boudoir.  Who  could  have  supposed  Captain  Noble 
would  have  so  much  taste  ?  And  do  look  at  that  darling  old 
Dutch  clock  over  the  —  the  buffet  or  whatever  it  is,  with  all 
the  little  ships  rocking  on  the  waves  every  time  it  ticks. " 

We  were  both  so  much  excited  now  that  we  began  to  talk 
together,  neither  of  us  listening  to  the  other.  We  opened  the 
door  of  what  Phil  called  the  "buffet,"  and  found  neat  little 
piles  of  blue-and-white  china.  There  were  tiny  tablecloths 
and  napkins  too,  and  knives  and  forks  and  spoons.  On  one  of 
the  seats  (which  could  be  turned  into  berths  at  night)  stood  a 
smart  tea-basket.  We  peeped  inside,  and  it  was  the  nicest  tea- 
basket  imaginable,  which  must  have  come  from  some  grand 
shop  in  Bond  Street,  with  its  gold  and  white  cups,  and  its 
gleaming  nickel  and  silver.  In  the  locker  were  sheets  and 
blankets;  on  a  bracket  by  the  clock  was  a  book-shelf  with  glass 
doors,  and  attractive-looking  novels  inside. 

"How  pathetic  it  is!"  I  cried.  "Poor  Captain  Noble!  He 
must  have  enjoyed  getting  together  these  nice  things;  and 
now  they  are  all  for  us. n 

"And  here  —  oh,  this  is  too  sad !  His  poor,  dear  shirts  and 
things,"  sighed  Phil,  making  further  discoveries  in  another, 
smaller  cabin  beyond  "Drawers  full  of  them.  Fancy  his  leav 
ing  them  here  all  winter  —  and  they  don't  seem  a  bit  damp." 


26  THE   CHAPERON 

I  followed  her  into  a  green-and-pink  cabin,  a  tiny  den,  but 
pretty  enough  for  an  artist  instead  of  an  old  retired  sea-cap 
tain. 

"What  shall  we  do  with  them  ?"  she  asked.  "We  might 
keep  them  all  to  remember  him  by,  perhaps;  only  —  they 
would  be  such  odd  sorts  of  souvenirs  for  girls  to  have,  and  - 
oh,  my  goodness,  Nell,  who  could  have  dreamed  of  Captain 
Noble  in  —  in  whatever  it  is  ?" 

Whatever  it  was,  it  was  pale-blue  silk,  with  lovely  pink 
stripes  of  several  shades,  and  there  was  a  jacket  which  Phil 
was  just  holding  out  by  its  shoulders,  to  admire,  when  a  slight 
cough  made  us  turn  our  heads. 

It  is  strange  what  individuality  there  can  be  in  a  cough. 
We  would  have  sworn  if  we'd  heard  it  while  locked  up  with 
Mr.  Paasma  in  a  dark  cell,  where  there  was  no  other  human 
being  to  produce  it,  that  he  couldn't  have  uttered  such  an 
interesting  cough. 

Before  we  turned,  we  knew  that  there  was  a  stranger  on 
"Lorelei,"  but  we  were  surprised  when  we  saw  what  sort  of 
stranger  he  was. 

He  stood  in  the  narrow  doorway  between  the  two  cabins, 
looking  at  us  with  bright,  dark  eyes,  like  Robert  Louis  Steven 
son's,  and  dressed  in  smart  flannels  and  a  tall  collar,  such  as 
Robert  Louis  Stevenson  would  never  have  consented  to  wear. 

"I  beg  your  pardon,"  said  he,  in  a  nice,  drawling  voice, 
which  told  me  that  he'd  first  seen  the  light  in  one  of  the 
Southern  States  of  America. 

"I  beg  yours,"  said  I.  (Somehow  Phil  generally  waits  for 
me  to  speak  first  in  emergencies,  though  she's  a  year  older.) 
"Are  you  looking  for  any  one  —  the  caretaker  of  our  boat, 
perhaps  ?" 

His  eyes  traveled  from  me  to  Phil;  from  Phil  to  the  blue 
garment  to  which  she  still  clung;  from  the  blue  garment  to 
the  pile  of  stiff  white  shirts  in  an  open  drawer. 


NELL   VAN    BUREN'S    POINT   OF   VIEW     27 

"No  —  o,  I  wasn't  exactly  looking  for  any  one,"  he  slowly 
replied.  "I  just  came  on  board  to  —  er  — 

"To  what,  if  you  please  ?"  I  demanded,  beginning  to 
stiffen.  "I've  a  right  to  know,  because  this  is  our  boat.  If 
you're  a  newspaper  reporter,  or  anything  of  that  sort,  please 
go  away;  but  if  you  have  business  — 

"No,  it  was  only  pleasure,"  said  the  young  man,  his  eyes 
like  black  diamonds.  "I  didn't  know  the  boat  was  yours." 

"Whose  did  you  think  it  was  ?" 

"Well,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  I  —  er  —  thought  it  was  mine." 

"What  do  you  mean  ?"  I  cried,  while  Phil  threw  a  wild, 
questioning  look  at  the  shirts,  and  dropped  the  blue  silk  jacket. 

"That  is,  temporarily.  But  there  must  be  some  mistake." 

"There  must  —  a  big  mistake.  Where's  the  caretaker  ?  He 
came  on  board  with  us. " 

The  young  man's  eyes  twinkled  even  more.  "Did  he  know 
it  was  your  boat  ?" 

"Why,  of  course,  we  told  him.  It  was  left  to  us  in  a  will. 
We've  just  come  to  claim  it." 

"Oh,  I  think  I  begin  to  see.  I  shouldn't  wonder  if  Paasma 
has  now  taken  to  his  bed  with  a  sudden  attack  of  —  whatever 
the  Dutch  have  instead  of  nervous  prostration.  He  didn't 
know  you  were  coming?" 

"Not  till  we  came." 

"It  must  have  been  quite  a  surprise.  By  Jove,  the  old  fox! 
I  suppose  he  hadn't  got  the  shadow  of  a  right,  then,  to  let  the 
boat  to  me  ?" 

"My  gracious!"  breathed  Phyllis,  and  shut  up  the  drawer 
of  shirts  with  a  snap.  I  don't  know  what  she  did  with  the  blue 
silk  object,  except  that  it  suddenly  and  mysteriously  disap 
peared  from  the  floor.  Perhaps  she  stood  on  it. 

"What  an  awful  thing,"  said  I.  "You're  sure  you're  not 
in  the  wrong  boat  ?  You're  sure  he  didn't  let  you  some  other 
one  ?" 


28  THE   CHAPERON 

"Sure.  There  is  no  other  one  in  Holland  exactly  like  this. 
I've  been  on  board  nearly  every  day  for  a  week,  ever  since  I 
began  to  — 

"Since  you  began  — 

"To  have  her  done  up.  Nothing  to  speak  of,  you  know; 
but  she's  been  lying  here  all  winter,  and  —  er  —  I  had  a  fancy 
to  clean  house  — 

"Then  —  all  these  things  are  —  yours  ?" 

"Some  of  the  things  - 

"The  Dutch  clock,  the  deck-chairs,  the  silk  cushions,  the 
curtains,  and  decorations  in  the  cabin  — 

"I'm  afraid  you  think  I'm  an  awful  meddler;  but,  you  see, 
I  didn't  know.  Paasma  told  me  he  had  a  right  to  let  the  boat, 
and  that  I  could  do  her  up  as  much  as  I  liked." 

"The  old  wretch!"  I  gasped.  "And  you  walk  on  board  to 
find  two  strange  girls  rummaging  among  your  —  your  — 
Then  I  couldn't  help  laughing  when  I  remembered  how  Phil 
had  suggested  our  keeping  those  things  for  souvenirs. 

"I  thought  I  must  be  having  a  dream  —  a  beautiful 
dream." 

I  ignored  the  implied  compliment.  "What  are  we  going 
to  do  about  it  ?"  I  asked.  "It  is  our  boat.  There's  no  doubt 
about  that.  But  with  these  things  of  yours  —  do  you  want  to 
go  to  law,  or  —  or  —  anything  ?" 

"Good  heavens,  no !  I  - 

"I'll  tell  you  what  we'll  do,"  said  I.  "Let's  get  the  care 
taker  here,  and  have  it  out  with  him.  Perhaps  he  has  an 
explanation." 

"He's  certain  to  have  —  several.  Shall  I  go  and  fetch  him  ?" 

"Please  do,"  urged  Phil,  speaking  for  the  first  time,  and 
looking  adorably  pink. 

The  young  man  vanished,  and  we  heard  him  running  up 
the  steep  companion  (if  that's  the  right  word  for  it)  two  steps 
at  a  time. 


NELL   VAN    BUREN'S    POINT    OF   VIEW      29 

Phil  and  I  stared  at  each  other.  "I  knew  something  awful 
would  happen,"  said  she.  "This  is  a  judgment." 

"He's  too  nice  looking  to  be  a  judgment,"  said  I.  "I  like 
his  taste  in  everything  —  including  shirts,  don't  you  ?" 

"Don't  speak  of  them,"  commanded  Phil. 

We  shut  the  drawers  tightly,  and  going  into  the  other  cabin, 
did  the  same  there. 

"Anyhow,  I  saw  'C.  Noble'  on  the  sheets  and  blankets," 
I  said  thankfully.  "There  are  some  things  that  belong  to  us  " 

"It  will  end  in  our  going  home  at  once,  I  suppose,"  said  Phil. 

"However  else  it  ends,  it  won't  end  like  that,  I  promise 
you,"  I  assured  her.  "I  must  have  justice." 

"But  he  must  have  his  things.  Oh,  Nell,  have  you  really 
got  relatives  in  Rotterdam,  or  did  you  make  that  up  to  frighten 
the  caretaker  ?" 

"No;  they  exist.  I  never  spoke  of  them  to  you,  because  I 
never  thought  of  them  until  we  were  coming  here,  and  then 
I  was  afraid  if  I  did  you'd  think  it  the  proper  thing  to  im 
plore  the  females  —  if  any  —  to  chaperon  us.  Besides,  rela 
tions  so  often  turn  out  bores.  All  I  know  about  mine  is,  that 
mother  told  me  father  had  relations  in  Holland  —  in  Rotter 
dam.  And  if  she  and  I  hadn't  stopped  in  England  to  take  care 
of  you  and  your  father,  perhaps  we  should  have  come  here 
and  met  them  long  ago." 

"Well,  do  let's  look  them  up  and  get  them  to  help.  I  won't 
say  a  word  about  chaperons." 

"Perhaps  it  would  be  a  good  thing.  That  wicked  old  care 
taker  seemed  to  be  struck  with  respectful  awe  by  the  name 
of  Van  Buren." 

"I  never  knew  before  that  you  were  partly  Dutch." 

"You  did.  I've  often  boasted  of  my  Knickerbocker  blood." 

"Yes.  But  — 

"Didn't  you  know  it  was  the  same  thing?  Where's  your 
knowledge  of  history?" 


30  THE   CHAPERON 

"I  never  had  much  time  to  study  American  history.  There 
was  such  a  lot  that  came  before,"  said  Phil,  mildly;  but  the 
blood  sprang  to  her  cheeks  at  the  sound  of  a  step  on  the 
stairs.  Our  rival  for  possession  of  the  boat  had  come  back 
alone. 

"That  old  rascal  has,  with  extraordinary  suddenness  and 
opportuneness,  forgotten  every  word  of  English, "  he  announ 
ced,  "and  pretends  not  to  understand  German.  I  can't  speak 
Dutch;  can  you  ?" 

"No,"  said  I.  "Not  a  syllable.  But  he  spoke  English  quite 
respectably  an  hour  ago." 

"That  was  before  he  was  found  out.  He  can  now  do  nothing 
but  shake  his  head  and  say  'niets  verstaen,'  or  something 
that  sounds  like  that.  I  thought  of  killing  him,  but  concluded 
it  would  be  better  to  wait  until  I'd  asked  you  how  you'd  like 
it  done." 

"It  ought  to  be  something  lingering,"  said  I.  "We'll  talk 
it  over.  But  first,  perhaps,  we'd  better  decide  what's  to  be 
done  with  ourselves.  You  see,  we've  come  to  Holland  to  have 
a  cruise  on  our  new  boat;  otherwise,  if  you  liked,  we,  as  the 
real  owners,  might  let  her  to  you,  and  all  would  be  well. 
Still,  it  does  seem  a  shame  that  you  should  be  disappointed 
when  you  took  *  Lorelei '  in  good  faith,  and  made  her  so  pretty. 
Of  course,  you  must  let  us  know  what  you've  paid  — 

"A  few  gulden,"  said  the  young  man,  evasively. 

"Never  mind.  You  must  tell  how  many.  Unfortunately 
that  won't  mend  your  disappointment.  But  —  what  can  we 
do?" 

"I  suppose  there  isn't  the  slightest  hope  that  you  could  — 
er  —  take  me  as  a  passenger  ?" 

"Oh,  we  couldn't  possibly  do  that,"  hastily  exclaimed  Phil. 
"We're  alone.  Though  my  stepsister,  Miss  Van  Buren,  has 
cousins  in  Rotterdam,  we've  come  from  England  without  a 
chaperon,  and  —  for  the  present " 


NELL   VAN   BUREN'S   POINT   OF   VIEW     31 

The  young  man's  eyes  were  more  brilliant  than  ever, 
though  the  rest  of  his  face  looked  sad. 

"Oh,  don't  say  any  more,"  he  implored.  "I  see  how  it  is. 
I  oughtn't  to  have  made  such  a  suggestion.  My  only  excuse  is, 
I  was  thinking  —  of  my  poor  aunt.  She'll  be  horribly  disap 
pointed.  I  care  most  for  her,  and  what  she'll  feel  at  giving  up 
the  cruise. " 

"Oh,  was  your  aunt  coming  ?"  I  asked. 

"Yes,  my  Scotch  aunt.  Such  a  charming  woman.  I'm  an 
American,  you  know.  Clever  of  me  to  have  a  Scotch  aunt, 
but  I  have.  I've  been  visiting  her  lately,  near  Edinburgh. 
You  would  like  Lady  MacNairne,  I  think." 

Phil's  face  changed.  She  is  the  last  girl  in  the  world  to  be 
a  snob;  but  hearing  that  this  young  man  had  a  Scotch  aunt, 
with  a  title,  was  almost  as  good  as  a  proper  introduction. 
And  there  really  is  something  singularly  winning  about 
my  countryman.  I  suppose  it  is  that  he  has  "a  way  with 
him,"  as  the  Irish  say.  Besides,  it  seemed  nice  of  so  young 
a  man  to  care  so  much  about  a  mere  aunt.  Many  young 
men  depise  aunts  as  companions;  but  evidently  he  isn't  one 
of  those,  as  he  beautified  "Lorelei"  simply  to  give  his  aunt 
pleasure. 

"It  really  does  seem  hard,"  I  said.  "Now,  if  only  Phyllis 
hadn't  so  many  rules  of  propriety  —  "  But,  to  my  surprise, 
the  very  thought  in  my  mind,  which  I  hadn't  dared  breathe, 
was  spoken  out  next  minute  by  Phil  herself. 

"Maybe  we  might  come  to  some  kind  of  arrangement  —  as 
you  have  an  aunt,"  she  faltered. 

"Yes,  as  you  have  an  aunt,"  I  repeated. 

"She'd  make  an  ideal  chaperon  for  young  ladies,"  hastily 
went  on  the  Southerner.  "I  should  like  you  to  meet  her." 

"Is  Lady  MacNairne  in  Rotterdam  ?"  asked  Phil. 

"Not  exactly;  but  she's  coming  —  almost  at  once." 

"We  don't  know  your  name  yet,"  said  Phyllis.  "I'm  Miss 


32  THE   CHAPERON 

Rivers;  my  stepsister  is  Miss  Van  Buren.  Perhaps  you'd 
better  introduce  yourself. " 

"I  shall  be  glad  to,"  returned  my  countryman.  "My  name 
is  Ronald  Lester  Starr  - 

"Why,  the  initials  are  just  right — R.  L.  S."  I  murmured. 

"I  know  what  you  mean,"  he  said,  with  a  nice  smile. 
"They  say  I  look  like  him.  I'm  very  proud.  You'll  think  I 
ought  to  be  a  writer;  but  I'm  not.  I  paint  a  little  —  just  enough 
to  call  myself  an  artist  — 

"Oh,  I  remember,"  I  broke  in.  "I  thought  the  name  sound 
ed  familiar.  You  had  a  picture  in  the  Salon  this  spring." 

He  looked  anxious.  "Did  you  see  it  ?" 

"No  —  not  even  a  copy.  What  was  the  subject?  Horrid 
of  me  to  ask;  but,  you  see,  it's  July  now,  and  one  forgets." 

"One  does,"  he  admitted,  as  if  he  were  pleased.  "Oh,  it 
was  only  a  portrait  of  my  aunt." 

"Your  Scotch  aunt?" 

"Yes.  But  if  you'd  seen  it,  and  then  should  see  her,  you 
mightn't  even  recognize  her.  I  —  er  —  didn't  try  to  make  a 
striking  likeness." 

"I  wish  I'd  seen  the  picture,"  said  I.  And  I  thought  Mr. 
Starr  must  be  very  modest,  for  his  expression  suggested  that 
he  didn't  echo  my  wish. 

"Do  you  think  you  could  let  my  aunt  and  me  join  you  ? " 
he  asked.  "I  don't  mean  to  crowd  up  your  boat;  that  would 
never  do,  for  you  might  want  to  sleep  on  it  sometimes.  But  I 
might  get  a  barge,  and  you  could  tow  it.  I'd  thought  of  that 
very  thing;  indeed,  I've  practically  engaged  a  barge.  My 
friend  and  I,  who  were  to  have  chummed  together,  if  he  hadn't 
been  called  away  —  oh,  you  know,  that  was  a  plan  before  my 
aunt  promised  to  come,  quite  another  idea.  But  what  I  mean 
to  say  is,  I  got  an  idea  for  hiring  a  barge,  and  having  is  towed 
by  the  motor-boat.  I  could  have  had  a  studio  in  that  way, 
for  I  wanted  to  do  some  painting.  I'd  just  come  back  from 


NELL   VAN   BUREN'S   POINT   OF   VIEW     33 

seeing  rather  a  jolly  barge  that's  to  let,  when  I  —  er  —  stum 
bled  on  you." 

"Had  you  engaged  any  one  to  work  *  Lorelei '  ?" 
"A   chauffeur,"   said   Mr.   Ronald;   "but   no   skipper   for 
certain  yet.  I've  been  negotiating." 

"Dear  me!"  I  exclaimed.  "Must  we  have  a  chauffeur  and 
a  skipper  too  ?" 

"I'm  afraid  we  must;  a  man  who  understands  the  water 
ways  of  Holland.  A  chauffeur  understands  only  the  motor, 
and  lucky  if  he  does  that. " 

"Won't  it  be  dreadfully  expensive  ?"  asked  Phyllis. 

"The  skipper's  wages  won't  be  more  than  five  or  six  dollars 
(a  bit  more  than  one  of  your  sovereigns)  a  week,  and  the 
chauffeur  less.  They'll  keep  themselves,  but  I  meant  them 
to  sleep  on  the  barge.  The  skipper  ought  to  be  a  smart  chap, 
who  can  be  trusted  with  money  to  pay  the  expenses  of  the 
boat  as  one  goes  along  —  bridge-money  and  all  sorts  of  things. 
The  chauffeur  can  buy  the  essence  —  petrol,  you  call  it  in 
England,  don't  you?  —  but  the  skipper  had  better  do  the 
rest." 

"It  does  seem  a  frightful  responsibility  for  two  girls,"  said 
Phyllis. 

"Of  course,  if  you'd  consent  to  have  my  aunt  —  and  me  — 
we'd  take  all  the  trouble  off  your  hands,  and  half  the  expense," 
remarked  Mr.  Starr.  "My  poor  aunt  is  so  fond  of  the  water, 
and  there's  so  little  in  Scotland  - 

"Little  in  Scotland  ?" 

"Well,  only  a  few  lakes  and  rivers.  It  does  seem  hard  she 
should  be  disappointed." 

"She  mightn't  like  us,"  said  Phyllis. 

"She  would  lo  —  I  mean,  she'd  be  no  aunt  of  mine  if  she 
didn't.  I'd  cut  her  off  with  a  penny." 

"It's  generally  aunts  who  do  that  with  their  nephews," 
said  I. 


34  THE   CHAPERON 

"Ah,  but  she's  different  from  other  aunts,  and  I'm  different 
from  other  nephews.  May  I  telegraph  that  she's  to  come  ?" 

"I  thought  she  was  coming." 

"I  mean,  may  I  telegraph  that  she's  to  be  a  chaperon  ?  I 
ought  to  let  her  know.  She  might  —  er  —  want  more  dresses 
or  bonnets,  or  something. " 

Phil  and  I  laughed,  and  so  did  Mr.  Starr.  After  that,  of 
course,  we  couldn't  be  stony-hearted;  besides,  we  didn't  want 
to  be.  I  could  see  that,  even  to  Phil,  the  thought  of  a  cruise 
taken  in  the  company  of  our  new  friend  and  that  ideal  chaper 
on,  his  aunt,  Lady  MacNairne,  had  attractions  which  the 
idea  of  a  cruise  alone  with  her  stepsister  had  lacked. 

"Well,  in  the  circumstances,  I  think  we  should  be  callous 
brutes  not  to  say  'Yes, '"  I  replied. 

"I  don't  want  to  force  you  into  consenting  from  pure 
generosity,"  went  on  Mr.  Starr.  "If  you'd  like  to  consult  your 
relations,  and  have  them  find  out  that  I'm  all  right  — 

I  laughed  again.  "I  know  you  better  than  I  do  them," 
said  I.  "I've  never  seen  them  yet.  I  think  we  can  take  you 
on  faith,  just  as  you've  taken  our  claims  to  the  boat.  Your 
Scotch  aunt  alone  would  be  a  guarantee,  if  we  needed  one, 
A  Scotch  aunt  sounds  so  extra  reliable.  But  perhaps  my 
relatives  may  be  of  use  in  other  ways,  as  they've  lived  in 
Rotterdam  always,  I  fancy.  They  might  even  find  us  a  skipper, 
if  your  negotiations  fall  through.  Anyhow,  I'll  write  a  letter 
from  our  hotel  to  the  head  of  the  family,  introducing  myself  as 
his  long-lost  cousin  twice  removed." 

"What  is  your  hotel,  if  I  may  ask  ?"  inquired  Mr.  Starr. 

I  told  him,  and  it  turned  out  that  it  had  been  his  till  this 
very  morning,  when  he  had  removed  his  things  to  "Lorelei," 
with  the  intention  of  living  on  board  till  he  was  ready  to  start. 
Now  he  proposed  to  have  them  taken  back  to  the  hotel,  and 
rearranged  on  the  barge  when  his  aunt  came.  As  for  that  sly 
old  person,  the  caretaker,  our  new  friend  volunteered  to 


NELL   VAN    BUREN'S   POINT   OF   VIEW      35 

straighten  out  every  thing  with  him,  our  affair  as  well  as  his 
own. 

"When  he  discovers  that  we  can't  be  bothered  having  the 
law  of  him,  as  he  richly  deserves,  he  will  remember  his  Eng 
lish,  or  I'll  find  the  way  to  make  him,"  said  the  young  man  in 
such  a  joyous,  confident  way,  that  thereupon  I  dubbed  him 
our  "lucky  Starr." 


IV 

' '  "W"     "IF  OW  funny  if  I've  got  relations  who  can't  speak 
i        •      any  language  except  Dutch!"  I  said,  after  I'd 
sent  a  letter  by  messenger  to  the  address  of  the 
Robert  van  Buren  found  in  the  directory. 

But  half  an  hour  later  an  answer  came  back,  in  English. 
Mine  very  sincerely,  Robert  van  Buren,  would  give  himself 
the  pleasure  of  calling  on  his  cousin  immediately.  When  I  re 
ceived  this  news  it  was  one  o'clock,  and  we  were  finishing  lunch 
at  the  hotel,  in  the  society  of  Mr.  Starr,  who  had  already 
wired  to  his  aunt  that  she  was  to  play  the  part  of  chaperon. 

I  read  the  letter  aloud,  and  Phil  and  I  decided  that  it  sound 
ed  old. 

"Mother  spoke  once  or  twice  of  father's  cousin,  Robert 
van  Buren;  so  I  suppose  he's  about  the  age  my  father  would 
have  been  if  he'd  lived,"  I  said.  "I  hope  he'll  not  turn  out 
a  horror." 

"I  hope  he'll  not  forbid  you  to  associate  with  my  aunt  and 
me,"  cut  in  Mr.  Starr.  "It's  a  stiff  kind  of  handwriting." 

"He  can't  make  me  stiff,"  said  I.  "Cousins  twice  removed 
don't  count  —  except  when  they  can  be  useful." 

"A  gentleman  in  the  reading-room  to  see  you,  miss,"  an 
nounced  the  waiter,  who  could  speak  English,  handing  me  a 
card  on  a  tray.  It  was  a  foreign-looking  card,  and  I  couldn't 
feel  in  the  least  related  to  it,  especially  as  the  "van"  began 
with  a  little  "v." 

"Come  and  support  me,  Phil,"  I  begged,  glancing  regret 
fully  at  a  seductive  bit  of  Dutch  cheese  studded  with  caraway 
seeds,  which  it  would  be  rude  to  stop  and  eat. 

86 


NELL   VAN   BUREN'S   POINT   OF  VIEW     37 

It's  rather  an  ordeal  to  meet  a  new  relation,  even  if  you  tell 
yourself  that  you  don't  care  what  he  thinks  of  you.  I  slipped 
behind  Phil,  making  her  enter  the  reading-room  first,  which 
gave  me  time  to  peep  over  her  shoulder  and  fancy  we  had  been 
directed  wrongly.  There  was  a  man  in  the  room,  but  he  could 
not  have  been  a  man  in  the  days  when  mother  was  speaking 
of  "father's  cousin."  His  expression  only  was  old:  it  might 
have  been  a  hundred.  The  rest  of  him  could  not  be  more 
than  twenty-eight,  and  it  was  all  extremely  good-looking.  If 
he  were  to  turn  out  a  cousin  I  should  not  have  to  be  ashamed 
of  him.  He  was  like  a  big,  handsome  cavalryman,  with  a 
drooping  mustache  that  was  hay-colored,  in  contrast  with  a 
brown  skin,  and  a  pair  of  the  solemnest  gray  eyes  I've  ever 
seen  —  except  in  the  face  of  a  baby. 

"Are  you  Miss  Van  Buren  ?"  this  giant  asked  Phil  gravely, 
holding  out  a  large  brown  hand. 

"No,"  said  Phil,  unwilling  to  take  the  hand  under  false 
pretenses. 

It  fell,  and  so  did  the  handsome  face,  if  anything  so  solemn 
could  have  become  a  degree  graver  than  before. 

"I  beg  your  pardon,"  said  the  owner  of  both,  speaking 
English  with  a  Scotch  accent.  "I  have  made  a  deceit." 

I  laughed  aloud.  "I'm  Helen  Van  Buren,"  I  said.  And 
I  put  out  my  hand. 

His  swallowed  it  up,  and  though  I  wear  only  one  ring  I 
could  have  shrieked.  Yet  his  expression  was  not  flattering. 
There  are  persons  who  prefer  my  style  to  Phil's,  but  I  could 
see  that  he  wasn't  one  of  them.  I  felt  he  thought  me  garish; 
which  was  unjust,  as  I  can't  help  it  if  my  complexion  is  very 
white  and  very  pink,  my  eyes  and  eyelashes  rather  dark,  and 
my  hair  decidedly  chestnut.  I  haven't  done  any  of  it  myself, 
yet  I  believe  the  handsome  giant  suspected  me,  and  was  sorry 
that  Phil  was  not  Miss  Van  Buren. 

"Are  you  my  cousin  Robert  Van  Buren's  son  ?"  I  asked. 


38  THE   CHAPERON 

"I  am  the  only  Robert  van  Buren  now  living,"  he  answered. 

I  longed  to  be  flippant,  and  say  that  there  were  probably 
several  dotted  about  the  globe,  if  we  only  knew  them;  but  I 
dared  not,  under  those  eyes  —  absolutely  dared  not.  Instead,  I 
remarked  inanely  that  I  was  sorry  to  hear  his  father  was  not 
alive. 

"He  died  many  years  ago.  We  have  got  over  it,"  he  replied. 
And  I  almost  laughed  again;  but  that  angel  of  a  Phil  looked 
quite  sympathetic. 

In  a  few  minutes  we  settled  down  more  comfortably,  with 
Phil  and  me  on  a  sofa  together,  and  Cousin  Robert  on  a  chair, 
which  kept  me  in  fits  of  anxiety  by  creaking  and  looking  too 
small  to  hold  him. 

Phil  and  I  held  hands,  as  girls  generally  do  when  they  are 
at  all  self-conscious,  if  they  sit  within  a  yard  of  each  other;  and 
we  all  began  to  talk  in  the  absurd  way  of  new-found  relations, 
or  people  you  haven't  seen  for  a  long  time. 

We  asked  Robert  things,  and  he  answered ;  and  when  we'd 
encouraged  him  a  good  deal,  he  asked  us  things  too,  looking 
mostly  as  Phyllis.  At  last  we  arrived  at  the  information  that 
he  had  a  mother  and  two  sisters,  who  spent  the  summers  at 
Scheveningen,  in  a  villa.  Then  fell  a  silence,  which  Phil  tact 
fully  broke  by  saying  that  she  had  heard  of  Scheveningen.  It 
must  be  a  beautiful  place,  and  she'd  been  brought  up  with  a 
cup  that  came  from  there.  When  she  was  good,  as  a  child,  she 
was  allowed  to  play  with  it. 

"I  should  think  you  were  always  good,"  said  Cousin  Rob 
ert-  Phyllis  blushed,  and  then  he  blushed  too,  under  his  brown 
skin.  "I  have  also  a  fiancee  at  Scheveningen,"  he  went  on,  a 
propos  of  nothing  —  unless  of  the  blush. 

"Is  she  a  Dutch  girl  ?"  I  asked. 

"Oh  yes." 

"I  suppose  she  is  very  pretty  and  charming  ?" 

"I  do  not  know.  I  am  used  to  her.  We  have  played  together 


NELL  VAN  BUREN'S  POINT  OF  VIEW  39 
when  we  were  young.  I  go  every  Saturday  to  Scheveningen, 
when  they  are  there,  to  stay  till  Monday." 

"Oh!"  said  Phil. 

"Oh!"  said  I. 

Silence  again.  Then,  "It  was  very  good  of  you  to  come 
and  see  us  so  quickly  after  I  wrote. " 

"It  was  my  duty;  and  my  pleasure  too"  (as  second  thought). 
"You  must  tell  me  your  plans." 

So  we  told  them,  and  Cousin  Robert  did  not  approve.  "I 
do  not  think  it  will  do, "  said  he,  firmly. 

"I'm  afraid  it  must  do,"  I  returned,  with  equal  firmness 
disguised  under  a  smile. 

Phil  apologized  for  me  as  she  gave  me  a  squeeze  of  the 
hand. 

"We've  been  very  happy  together,  Nell  and  I,"  she  ex 
plained,  "but  we  have  never  had  much  excitement.  This  is 
our  first  chance,  and  —  we  shall  be  well  chaperoned  by  Lady 
MacNairne. " 

"Yes;  but  she  is  the  aunt  of  the  stranger  young  man." 

"Geniuses  are  never  strangers.  He  is  a  genius,"  I  said. 
"You've  no  idea  how  his  Salon  picture  was  praised." 

"But  his  character.  What  do  you  know  of  that  ?" 

"It's  his  aunt's  character  that  matters  most,  and  the  Mac- 
Nairnes  are  irreproachable." 

(I  had  never  heard  the  name  until  this  morning,  but  there 
are  some  things  which  you  seem  to  have  been  born  knowing ; 
and  I  was  in  a  mood  to  stake  my  life  upon  Lady  MacNairne.) 

"It  is  better  that  you  see  my  mother,"  said  Cousin  Robert. 

"It  will  be  sweet  of  her  to  call  on  us." 

"I  do  not  think  she  can  do  that.  She  it  too  large;  and  she 
does  not  easily  move  from  Scheveningen.  But  if  she  writes 
you  a  note,  to  ask  you  and  Miss  Rivers,  you  will  go,  is  it  not  ?  " 

"With  pleasure,"  I  said,  "if  it  isn't  too  far.  You  see,  Lady 
MacNairne  may  arrive  soon,  and  when  she  does " 


40  THE   CHAPERON 

"But  now  I  will  see  my  mother,  and  I  will  bring  back  the 
letter.  I  will  drive  with  an  automobile  which  a  friend  has  lent 
me  —  Rudolph  Brederode;  and  when  you  have  read  the  note, 
you  will  both  go  in  the  car  with  me  to  Scheveningen  to  stay 
for  all  night,  perhaps  more. " 

"Oh,  we  couldn't  think  of  staying  all  night,"  I  exclaimed. 
"We'll  stop  here  till  - 

"It  is  not  right  that  you  stop  here.  I  will  go  now,  and, 
please,  you  will  pack  up  to  be  ready. " 

"We  haven't  unpacked  yet,"  I  said.  "But  we  couldn't  possi 
bly  —  for  one  thing,  your  mother  may  not  find  it  convenient. r 

My  cousin  Robert's  jaw  set.  "She  surely  will  find  it  con 
venient.  " 

"What  people  you  Dutch  are!"  the  words  broke  from  me. 

He  looked  surprised.  "We  are  the  same  like  others." 

"I  think  you  are  the  same  as  you  used  to  be  hundreds  of 
years  ago,  when  you  first  began  to  do  as  you  pleased;  and  I 
suppose  you  have  been  doing  it  ever  since. " 

Cousin  Robert  smiled.  "Maybe  we  like  our  own  way,"  he 
admitted. 

"And  maybe  you  get  it ! " 

"I  hope.  And  now  I  will  go  to  order  the  automobile." 
He  glanced  at  his  watch,  an  old-fashioned  gold  one.  "In 
an  hour  and  a  quarter  I  will  be  at  Scheveningen.  Fifteen 
minutes  there  will  be  enough.  Another  hour  and  a  quarter  to 
come  back.  I  will  be  for  you  at  four." 

"You  don't  allow  any  time  for  the  motor  to  break  down," 
I  said. 

"I  do  not  hope  that  she  will  break  down.  She  is  a  Dutch  car. " 

"And  serves  a  Dutch  master.  Oh  no;  certainly  she  won't 
break  down." 

He  stared,  not  fully  comprehending;  but  he  did  not  pull  his 
mustache,  as  an  Englishman  does,  when  he  wonders  if  he  is 
being  chaffed.  He  shook  hands  with  us  gravely,  and  bowed 


NELL   VAN   BUREN'S   POINT   OF   VIEW     41 

several  times  at  the  door.  Then  he  was  gone,  and  we  knew 
that  if  he  didn't  come  back  at  four  with  that  letter  from  his 
mother,  it  would  be  because  she  —  or  the  motor  —  was  more 
Dutch  than  he. 

When  he  disappeared,  Phil  and  I  went  out  into  the  garden 
for  the  sole  purpose,  we  told  each  other,  of  having  coffee;  and 
when  we  saw  Mr.  Starr  sitting  with  an  empty  cup  and  a 
cigarette,  we  both  exclaimed,  "Oh,  are  you  here  ?"  as  if  we 
were  surprised;  so  I  suppose  we  were. 

He  had  caught  a  glimpse  of  Cousin  Robert,  and  said  what 
a  splendid-looking  fellow  he  was  —  a  regular  Viking;  but  when 
we  agreed,  he  appeared  depressed.  "Oh,  my  prophetic  soul!" 
he  murmured.  "The  cousin  will  want  his  mother  to  go  with 
you,  and  my  poor  aunt  will  be  nowhere. " 

"His  mother  is  too  large  for  the  boat,"  I  assured  him  con 
fidently.  Mr.  Starr  brightened  at  this,  but  clouded  again  when 
he  heard  that  Phil  and  I  were  to  stop  the  night  with  my  cousins. 

"They  will  tear  you  away  from  me  —  I  mean,  from  my 
aunt,"  he  said. 

I  shook  my  head.  "No.  It's  difficult  to  resist  the  Dutch, 
I  find,  when  they  want  you  to  do  anything;  but  when  they 
want  you  not  to  do  anything  —  why,  that  is  too  much.  Your 
pride  comes  to  the  rescue,  and  you  fight  for  your  life.  We'll 
promise,  if  you  like;  for  your  aunt's  sake.  Won't  we,  Phil  ?'; 

"Yes;  for  your  aunt's  sake,"  she  echoed. 

"We  can  depend  upon  you,  then  —  my  aunt  and  I  ?" 

"Upon  us  and  'Lorelei.'" 

"You're  angels.  My  aunt  will  bless  you.  And  now,  would 
you  care  to  look  at  the  barge  I've  got  the  refusal  of  ?  If  you're 
going  to  tow  her,  you  ought  to  know  what  she's  like.  I  don't 
think  she'll  put  'Lorelei'  to  shame,  though,  for  she's  good  of 
her  kind;  belongs  to  a  Dutch  artist  who's  in  the  habit  of 
living  aboard,  but  he  has  a  commission  for  work  in  France, 
this  summer,  and  wants  to  let  her.  She's  lying  near  by." 


42  THE   CHAPERON 

Who  would  have  thought,  when  we  arrived  a  few  hours 
before,  strangers  in  Rotterdam,  that  we  would  be  sauntering 
about  the  town  with  an  American  young  man,  calmly  making 
plans  for  a  cruise  in  his  society  ?  I'm  sure  that  if  a  palmist 
had  contrived  to  capture  Phil's  virtuous  little  hand,  and  fore 
told  any  such  events,  my  stepsister  would  have  considered 
them  as  impossible  as  monstrous.  Nevertheless,  she  now 
accepted  the  arrangements  Fate  made  for  her,  as  quietly  as 
the  air  she  breathed ;  for  was  not  the  figure  of  our  future  chap 
eron  already  hovering  in  the  background,  title  and  old  Scotch 
blood  and  all,  sanctifying  the  whole  proceeding  ? 

Phil  was  so  enchanted  with  the  barge  (which  turned  out  to 
be  a  sort  of  glorified  Dutch  sea-going  house-boat)  that  she 
was  fired  with  sudden  enthusiasm  for  our  cruise.  And  the 
thing  really  is  a  delectable  craft  —  stout,  with  a  square-shoul 
dered  bow,  and  a  high,  perky  nose  of  brass,  standing  up  in  the 
air  as  one  sees  the  beak  of  a  duck  sometimes,  half-sunk  among 
its  feathers  and  pointing  upward.  "Waterspin"  (which  means 
"water-spider")  is  the  creature's  name,  and  she  is  a  brilliant 
emerald,  lined  and  painted  round  her  windows  with  an  equal 
ly  brilliant  scarlet.  This  bold  scheme  of  color  would  be  no  less 
than  shocking  on  the  Thames;  but,  sitting  in  that  olive-green 
canal,  in  a  retired  part  of  Rotterdam,  "  Waterspin"  looked  like 
a  pleasing  Dutch  caricature  of  Noah's  Ark. 

Inside  we  found  her  equally  desirable,  with  four  little  boxes 
of  sleeping-rooms,  yellow  painted  floors,  and  bunks  curtained 
with  hand-embroidered  dimity,  stiff  as  a  frozen  crust  of  snow; 
a  studio,  with  a  few  charming  bits  of  old  painted  Dutch  furni 
ture  to  redeem  it  from  bareness,  and  a  kitchen  which  roused 
all  Phil's  domestic  instincts. 

"Oh,  the  darling  blue  and  white  china,  and  brass  things, 
and  those  adorable  pewter  pots!"  she  cried.  "I  love  this  boat. 
I  could  be  quite  happy  living  on  her  all  the  rest  of  my 
life." 


exclaimed,  "Oh,  are  you  here?" 


NELL   VAN    BUREN'S   POINT    OF   VIEW      43 

"So  you  shall!  I  mean,  while  she  is  mine  you  must  con 
sider  yourselves  as  much  at  home  on  her  as  on  your  own  boat, " 
stammered  Mr.  Starr.  "Or,  if  you'd  rather  take  up  your 
quarters  on  the  barge  — 

"No,  no.  Nell  and  I  will  live  on  'Lorelei';  but  I  do  think,  if 
you'll  let  me,  I'll  come  sometimes  and  cook  things  in  that 
heavenly  kitchen." 

"Let  you  ?  Whatever  you  make  shall  be  preserved  in  amber." 

"Wouldn't  it  be  better  to  eat  it  ?"  asked  Phil. 

"Can  you  cook  ?  I  should  as  soon  expect  to  see  a  Burne- 
Jones  lady  run  down  the  Golden  Stair  into  a  kitchen  — 

''I  can  make  delicious  toast  and  tea-cakes  and  salad  dress 
ing  —  can't  I,  Nell  ?  —  and  lots  of  other  things." 

"Pluperfect.  I  only  wish  I  could.  I  shan't  trouble  your 
kitchen,  Mr.  Starr." 

"But  you  can  sing  so  beautifully,  dear,  and  sketch,  too; 
and  your  stories 

"Don't  dare  speak  of  them!"  I  glared;  and  poor  Phil,  un 
selfishly  anxious  to  show  off  my  accomplishments  to  Lady 
MacNairne's  nephew,  was  silent  and  abashed.  I  hoped  that 
Mr.  Starr  hadn't  heard. 

He  was  delighted  with  our  approval  of  the  barge,  and 
enlarged  upon  the  good  times  before  us.  No  one  could  know 
Holland  properly  without  seeing  her  from  the  waterways,  he 
said,  and  we  would  know  her  by-and-by  as  few  foreigners  did. 
She  could  not  hide  a  secret  from  us  that  was  worth  finding  out. 
He  hadn't  planned  any  regular  tour  for  himself;  he  had  meant 
to  wander  here  and  there,  as  the  fancy  seized  him;  but  now 
the  route  was  for  us  to  decide.  Whatever  pleased  us  would 
please  him.  As  for  his  painting,  you  could  hardly  go  round  a 
corner  in  Holland  without  stumbling  on  a  scene  for  a  picture, 
and  he  should  come  across  them  everywhere;  he  had  no  choice 
of  direction.  But  in  seven  or  eight  weeks  we  could  explore  the 
waterways  pretty  thoroughly.  Our  skipper  would  be  able  to 


44  THE   CHAPERON 

put  us  on  the  right  track,  and  let  us  miss  nothing.  Had  we, 
by-the-by,  asked  Mr.  van  Buren  if  he'd  any  skippers  up  his 
sleeve?  Oh,  well,  it  didn't  matter  that  we'd  forgotten.  He 
himself  had  the  names  of  several,  besides  some  men  he  had 
already  seen,  and  he  would  interview  them  all.  It  was  certain 
that  in  a  day  or  two  at  most,  he  could  find  exactly  the  right 
person  for  the  place,  and  we  might  be  sure  that  while  we  were 
away  at  Scheveningen  he  would  not  be  idle  in  our  common 
interests. 

"After  all,  even  you  must  admit  that  men  are  of  some  use," 
said  Phil,  when  we  were  at  the  hotel  again,  waiting  for  Cousin 
Robert  and  his  car  "Supposing  you'd  had  to  organize  the 
tour  alone,  as  we  expected,  could  you  have  done  it  ?" 

"Of  course,"  I  replied,  bravely. 

"What!  and  engaged  a  chauffeur  and  a  skipper?  Who 
would  have  told  you  what  to  do  ?  I'm  sure  we  could  never 
have  started  without  your  cousin  Robert  and  Mr.  Starr. " 

"What  has  Cousin  Robert  got  to  do  with  it  ?"  I  demanded. 

Phil  reflected.  "Now  I  come  to  think  of  it,  I  don't  know 
exactly.  But  he  is  so  dependable;  and  there's  so  much  of  him." 

"I  hope  there  won't  be  too  much,"  said  I. 

"I  like  tall  men,"  remarked  Phil,  dreamily.  Then  she 
looked  at  her  watch.  "It's  five  minutes  to  four.  He  ought 
to  be  here  soon." 

"He'll  come  inside  ten  minutes,"  I  prophesied. 

But  he  came  in  three.  I  might  have  known  he  would  be 
before  his  time,  rather  than  after.  And  he  arrived  with  a  nice 
letter  from  his  mother. 

Neither  Phyllis  nor  I  had  ever  been  in  a  motor-car  until 
we  got  gingerly  into  that  one.  I  had  heard  her  say  that  she 
would  never  thus  risk  her  life;  but  she  made  no  mention  of 
this  resolution  to  Cousin  Robert.  If  she  had,  it  would  have 
been  useless;  for  without  doubt  she  would  in  the  end  have 
had  to  go ;  and  it  saved  time  not  to  demur. 


THE  car  which  stood  throbbing  at  the  door  of  the 
hotel  was  large  and  handsome,  as  if  made  to  match 
my  cousin,  and  it  was  painted  flame  color. 

"I  am  just  learning  to  drive,"  said  Robert,  who 
wore  a  motoring-cap  which  was  particularly  becoming.  "I 
do  not  know  much  about  automobiles  yet;  soon  I  shall  buy 
one.  It  is  rowing  I  like  best,  and  skating  in  winter,  though  I 
have  not  time  to  amuse  myself  except  at  the  end  of  weeks,  for 
I  am  manager  of  my  poor  father's  factory.  But  my  fiancee 
likes  the  automobile,  and  to  please  her  I  am  learning  with  my 
friend's  car." 

"That  is  good  of  you,"  said  Phyllis. 

"Yes,  it  is,"  he  replied  gravely.  "Would  you  that  I  drive 
or  the  chauffeur  ?  He  has  more  experience. " 

I  left  the  decision  to  Phil,  as  she  is  the  timid  one,  but  to 
my  surprise  she  answered 

"Oh,  you,  of  course." 

Cousin  Robert  looked  pleased.  "Are  you  not  afraid  ?"  he 
inquired,  beaming. 

"Ye  —  es,  I  am  afraid,  for  I've  never  been  before.  But  I 
shall  be  less  afraid  with  you  than  with  him."  And  she  glanced 
at  a  weedy  youth  who  was  pouring  oil  from  a  long-nosed  tin 
into  something  obscure. 

"Will  you  sit  in  front  by  my  side  ?"  he  asked.  And  it  was 
only  after  Phil  had  accepted  the  invitation  that  he  remember 
ed  to  hope  I  wouldn't  mind  the  chauffeur  being  in  the  tonneau 
with  me.  "It  must  have  been  one  of  you,"  he  added,  "and 
you  and  I  are  cousins.7 

45 


46  THE   CHAPERON 

"Twice  removed,"  I  murmured;  but  he  was  helping  Phil 
into  the  car,  and  did  not  hear. 

It  was  a  wild  moment  when  we  started.  But  it  would  have 
looked  odd  to  cling  to  the  chauffeur  for  protection,  so  I  did 
nothing;  and  it  calmed  me  to  see  how  Phyllis  bore  herself. 
She  didn't  even  grasp  the  arm  of  the  seat;  she  merely  gazed 
up  into  Cousin  Robert's  face  with  a  sweetly  feminine  look, 
which  said,  "My  one  hope  is  in  you,  but  I  trust  you  utterly." 
It  was  enough  to  melt  the  heart  of  a  stone  giant,  even  when 
seen  through  goggles.  I  had  an  idea  that  this  giant  was  not 
made  of  stone,  and  I  wondered  what  the  fiancee  of  my  cousin 
twice  removed  was  made  of. 

After  the  first  thrill  of  starting,  when  we  seemed  to  be  tear 
ing  like  a  tailless  comet  through  a  very  small  portion  of  space 
not  designed  to  hold  comets,  I  grew  happy,  though  far  from 
tranquil.  I  can't  imagine  people  ever  feeling  really  tranquil 
in  an  automobile,  and  I  don't  believe  they  do,  though  they 
may  pretend.  I'm  sure  I  should  not,  even  if  I  became  a  pro 
fessional  chauffeur,  which  heaven  forbid.  But  part  of  the 
enjoyment  came  through  not  feeling  tranquil.  There  was  a 
savage  joy  in  thinking  every  instant  that  you  were  going  to  be 
dashed  to  pieces,  or  else  that  you  would  dash  somebody  else 
to  pieces,  while  all  the  time  you  knew  in  your  heart  that 
nothing  of  the  sort  would  happen. 

The  car  went  splendidly,  and  I  believe  I  should  have 
guessed  it  was  a  Dutch  one,  even  if  Cousin  Robert  hadn't  told 
me;  it  made  so  little  noise,  yet  moved  so  masterfully,  and 
gave  an  impression  of  so  much  reserve  power.  Indeed,  I 
might  have  thought  out  several  nice  similes  if  there  hadn't 
been  quantities  of  trams  and  heavy  drays  blundering  about ,  or 
if  the  inhabitants  of  Rotterdam  had  not  had  a  habit  of  walking 
in  large  family  groups  in  the  middle  of  the  street.  The  big  horn 
through  which  Robert  every  now  and  again  blew  a  mourn 
ful  blast,  was  confusing  when  it  arrived  in  the  midst  of  an 


NELL   VAN    BUREN'S    POINT    OF   VIEW      47 

idea;  and  a  little  curved  thing  (like  the  hunting-horn  of  old 
pictures)  into  which  the  chauffeur  occasionally  mewed,  was  as 
disconcerting  to  my  nerves  as  to  those  of  the  pedestrians  who 
hopped  out  of  the  way. 

The  more  we  saw  of  Rotterdam,  the  more  extraordinary 
did  the  city  appear,  and  the  more  did  I  wonder  that  people 
should  refer  to  it  merely  as  a  port. 

"It  is  not  a  bad  town,"  Robert  said  to  Phyllis,  in  the  half- 
fond,  half -deprecating  way  in  which,  when  talking  to  stran 
gers,  we  allude  to  that  spot  of  earth  we  happen  to  inhabit.  "I 
would  not  change  to  live  at  The  Hague,  though  the  diplomatic 
set  give  sneers  at  us  and  call  us  commercial. " 

"Just  as  Edinburgh  sneers  at  Glasgow,"  cut  in  Phil. 

"Yes,  like  that.  I  have  been  much  to  Scotland  on  my  busi 
ness,  and  I  know,"  answered  Robert.  "But  we  have  many 
good  things  to  show  strangers,  if  they  would  look;  pictures, 
and  museums,  and  old  streets;  but  it  is  not  fashionable  to 
admire  Rotterdam.  You  should  see  the  Boompjes  at  night, 
when  the  lights  shine  in  the  water.  It  is  only  a  big  dyke,  but 
once  it  was  the  part  where  the  rich  people  lived,  and  those 
who  know  about  such  things  say  the  old  houses  are  good. 
And  I  should  like  you  to  see  where  I  live  with  my  mother  and 
sisters.  It  is  an  old  house,  too,  in  a  big  garden,  with  a  pond 
and  an  island  covered  with  flowers.  But  we  do  not  pass  now, 
so  you  must  see  it  a  future  day. " 

To  say  all  this,  Cousin  Robert  had  to  yell  above  the 
roar  of  traffic  on  the  stone  pavements;  but  by-and-by, 
as  town  changed  into  country,  we  left  the  stones  behind 
and  came  into  the  strangest  road  I  have  ever  seen.  It  ran 
beside  a  little  river  — the  Schie  —  which  looked  like  a  canal, 
and  it  was  made  of  neat,  purplish-brown  bricks,  laid  edge 
to  edge. 

"Klinker,.  we  call  it,"  said  Cousin  Robert.  "It's  good  for 
driving;  never  much  dust  or  mud;  and  when  you  motor  it 


48  THE   CHAPERON 

gives  grip  to  the  'pneus. '  It  wouldn't  do  for  us  of  the  Nether 
lands  to  leave  our  roads  bare. " 

"Why,  what  would  happen  ?"  I  bent  toward  him  to  ask. 
"Would  the  bottom  of  Holland  drop  out  ?" 

"I  think  yes,"  he  replied,  seriously.  "The  saying  is  that 
there  has  been  as  much  of  sand  laid  on  the  road  between 
Rotterdam  and  The  Hague  as  would  reach  the  top  of  the 
cathedral  spire  at  Amsterdam,  which  you  will  see  one  day." 

"Dear  me,  and  yet  it's  so  low  and  flat,  now,"  soliloquized 
Phil.  "Lower  than  the  canals." 

"It  is  nothing  here  to  some  places.  We  work  hard  to  save 
the  country  we  have  made  with  our  hands,  we  Netherlanders. 
All  the  streets  and  gardens  of  Rotterdam,  and  other  towns  too, 
sink  down  and  down;  but  we  are  used  to  that.  We  do  not 
stop  to  care,  but  go  to  work  adding  more  steps  up  to  the 
houses,  so  we  can  get  in  at  our  doors." 

"I  think  you  are  wonderful,"  said  Phyllis. 

"I  have  not  done  very  much  myself,"  modestly  replied 
Cousin  Robert. 

"But  you  would  if  necessary.  I'm  sure  you'd  have  been 
like  the  little  boy  who  saw  the  trickle  of  water  coming  out  of 
the  dyke,  and  put  his  thumb  — 

"Phil,  if  you  bring  up  that  story  I'll  ask  Cousin  Robert  van 
Buren  to  run  into  a  windmill  and  kill  you,"  I  shrieked  over  her 
shoulder. 

"But  I  would  not  do  that,"  said  he.  Oh  yes,  he  really  was 
wonderful,  my  cousin  Robert. 

"There  is  a  spot  to  interest  an  American,"  he  deigned  to 
fling  a  sop  to  me,  nodding  vaguely  upward  at  some  roofs  on 
the  River  Maas.  "Did  you  ever  hear  of  Oude  Delftshaven, 
cousin  ?  But  I  don't  suppose  you  have. " 

"Indeed  I  have!"  I  shrieked  at  him.  "I  wouldn't  be  a  true 
descendant  of  Knickerbocker  stock  if  I  hadn't.  On  July  22, 
1620,  some  Pilgrim  Fathers  (I'm  not  sure  whether  they  were 


NELL  VAN  BUREN'S  POINT  OF  VIEW  49 
fathers  then  or  afterwards)  set  sail  from  Oude  Delftshaven 
for  America." 

(I  didn't  think  it  necessary  to  explain  that,  Knickerbocker 
as  I  was,  I  had  absorbed  this  fact  only  the  other  day  in  "read 
ing  up"  Holland.) 

I  was  still  more  inclined  to  be  reticent  as  to  the  newness  of 
my  knowledge  when  it  appeared  that  Phil  knew  something  of  a 
poem  on  the  subject  by  Mrs.  Hemans.  I  could  not  allow  my 
English  stepsister  to  be  better  informed  than  I  concerning  a 
country  which  I  already  began  to  regard  as  a  sort  of  confiscat 
ed  family  estate  that  ought  to  have  been  mine. 

We  were  going  fast  now,  so  fast  that  the  tears  came  to  my 
eyes  as  the  sweet-scented  breeze  rushed  against  my  lashes. 

"There's  Schiedam,"  said  Robert,  indicating  a  town  that 
stood  up  darkly  out  of  the  green  plain.  "You  know,  they 
make  the  famous  'Geneva'  there." 

We  had  never  heard  of  Geneva  in  liquid  form,  but  it  ap 
peared  that  "Geneva"  or  "Hollands"  and  gin  were  all  the 
same  thing;  and  Cousin  Robert  seemed  almost  offended  when 
I  said  it  was  nice,  with  hot  water  and  sugar,  for  a  cold  in  the 
head. 

I  don't  know  whether  the  little  Schie  is  really  an  idyllic 
stream,  or  whether  the  glamor  of  that  azure  day  was  upon  it 
for  me,  but  our  first  "waterway"  seemed  exquisite,  as  we  spun 
along  through  country  of  wide  horizons  and  magic  atmosphere. 

There  were  pretty  houses,  with  balconies  screened  with 
roses  —  cataracts  of  roses,  yellow,  and  pink,  and  white.  We 
flew  by  lawns  like  the  lawns  of  England,  and  thick,  dark 
patches  of  forest,  where  the  sun  rained  gold.  There  were  mea 
dows  where  a  red  flame  of  poppies  leaped  among  the  wheat, 
and  quenched  their  fire  in  the  silver  river  of  waving  grain. 
There  were  other  meadows,  green  and  sunny,  where  cows  were 
being  milked  into  blue  pails  lined  with  scarlet;  and  there  were 
bowery  tea-gardens  divided  into  snug  little  arbors  for  two, 


50  THE   CHAPERON 

where  each  swain  could  woo  his  nymph  unseen  by  the  next- 
door  swain  and  nymph,  though  all  couples  were  in  sight  from 
the  river. 

"Now  we're  coming  to  Delft,"  said  Robert,  long  before  I 
thought  that  we  could  be  near  that  ancient  town.  "If  Rudolph 
Brederode,  who  lends  me  this  car,  were  here,  he  could  tell 
much  about  the  history,"  my  cousin  went  on,  mentioning  his 
friend  for  the  second  time,  as  if  with  pride.  "He  is  the  sort 
of  fellow  who  knows  all  the  things  to  know,  though  he  is  a 
great  sportsman,  too.  I  never  took  interest  in  history,  but 
William  the  Silent  is  our  hero,  so  even  I  know  of  him  and 
Delft.  It  was  at  Oude  Delft  he  was  murdered." 

"He  was  one  of  my  heroes  when  I  was  a  little  girl,"  said  I. 
"I  can  recall  my  father  telling  splendid  stories  about  him  —  as 
good  as  fairy  tales.  The  best  was  about  the  way  he  earned  the 
nickname  of  William  the  Silent." 

I  gazed  with  interest  at  the  place  where  one  of  the  greatest 
figures  in  the  history  of  the  world  had  lived  and  died. 

A  shady,  lovable  old  town  it  seemed.  We  drove  into  a 
pleasant  street,  which  looked  so  clear  and  green,  from  the 
mirror  of  its  canal  to  the  Gothic  arch  of  its  close  arbor  of 
fragrant  lime-trees,  that  it  was  like  a  tunnel  of  illuminated 
beryl.  The  extraordinary  brilliance  of  the  windows  added  to 
the  jewel-like  effect.  Each  pane  was  a  separate  glittering 
square  of  crystal,  and  the  green  light  flickered  and  glanced  on 
the  quaint  little  tilted  spy  ing-mirrors  in  which  Dutch  ladies 
see  the  life  of  the  streets,  themselves  unseen. 

The  houses  were  of  brown  or  purplish  brick,  with  curiously 
ornamented  doorways,  the  stucco  decorations  running  in  wavy 
lines  up  to  the  level  of  the  first  story  windows;  the  door- steps 
white  as  pearl  in  the  green  glimmer;  but  there  was  nothing 
striking  in  the  way  of  architecture  until  we  swept  into  sight  of 
an  old  Gothic  building,  blazing  with  colored  coats-of-arms, 
ancient  and  resplendent. 


NELL   VAN    BUREN'S    POINT   OF   VIEW     51 

"That's  the  Gemeenlandshuis  van  Delfsland,"  said  Cousin 
Robert,  with  a  beautiful  confidence  in  our  comprehension;  and 
then,  slowing  down  the  car  before  a  dark,  high  wall,  with  a 
secretive-looking  door  in  the  midst,  "Here's  the  Prinzenhof, 
where  William  the  Silent  lived,  and  where  Balthazar  Gerard 
killed  him." 

"Oh,"  I  exclaimed,  as  he  was  driving  on,  "can't  we  stop 
—  can't  we  go  in  ?" 

"We  could,  but  —  I  should  not  like  to  make  us  late  for 
dinner,"  Cousin  Robert  demurred. 

"Dinner  ?  Why,  it's  ages  before  dinner,  and  - 

"We  dine  at  half-past  five,"  said  he. 

Phil  and  I  gazed  at  each  other  with  lifted  eyebrows.  Phil 
was  pale,  and  I  felt  a  sudden  constriction  of  the  throat.  The 
idea  of  eating  dinner  at  the  hour  when  our  souls  cried  for  tea 
and  toast,  was  little  short  of  ghastly.  Noblesse  obliged  us  to 
conceal  our  loathing,  but  I  did  venture  meekly  to  suggest  that 
if  we  drove  faster  afterwards  perhaps  we  might  spare  a  few 
minutes  for  the  Prinzenhof. 

"There  are  things  in  The  Hague  you  will  want  to  stop  for, 
too,"  said  Robert.  "But  my  sisters  and  I  can  bring  you  to 
see  the  pictures,  and  the  Royal  Palace  and  the  Huis  ten  Bosch 
to-morrow;  besides,  I  remember  my  mother  meant  to  put  off 
dinner  for  us  until  six,  so  we  will,  maybe,  not  be  too  late." 

One  should  be  thankful  for  the  smallest  mercies;  and  I 
hoped  that  the  craving  for  tea  might  have  subsided  into  cal 
lous  resignation  by  six.  What  Phil,  as  a  born  Englishwoman, 
must  have  been  feeling,  I  could  easily  conceive;  and  it  was  a 
pity  this  shock  to  her  system  had  arrived  on  our  first  day,  for 
only  just  before  the  blow  she  had  said  that  Holland  seemed  too 
enchanting:  she  was  glad,  after  all,  that  she  had  come,  and 
would  like  to  learn  the  language. 

Luckily,  Cousin  Robert  had  remembered  the  change  in  the 
domestic  program  before  it  was  too  late,  otherwise  I  am  sure 


52  THE   CHAPERON 

he  would  have  denied  us  the  Prinzenhof ,  and  we  should  have 
had  to  sneak  back  by  ourselves  to-morrow.  As  it  was  we  were 
allowed  to  have  our  own  way,  practically  for  the  first  time 
since  we  came  to  Holland. 

Robert  rang  a  bell,  and  a  man  appeared,  who  let  us  into 
the  courtyard,  more  like  the  courtyard  of  a  monastery  than  a 
palace;  and  among  the  historical  dust-motes  which  clung  to 
Cousin  Robert's  memory  was  the  fact  that  the  place  actually 
had  been  a  monastery,  sacred  to  St.  Agatha. 

We  crossed  the  courtyard,  and  just  inside  another  door 
found  ourselves  on  the  scene  of  the  great  tragedy. 

I  knew  it  by  instinct,  before  anybody  told  me;  for  suddenly 
the  whole  story  came  back  just  as  I  heard  it  from  my  father, 
not  as  I've  read  it  in  books  of  history.  So  vividly  did  he  paint 
each  detail,  that  I  used  to  grow  hysterical  in  my  infantine 
way,  and  he  was  scolded  by  mother  for  "filling  the  child's 
mind  with  horrors." 

Yes,  there  was  the  stairway,  with  the  pale  light  coming 
from  the  low  window;  there  was  the  white  wall  which  had 
been  spattered  with  the  hero's  life  blood;  there  was  the  open 
door  of  the  dining-hall  where  he  had  been  carried  back  to  die ; 
there  the  white  pillar  behind  which  the  murderer  crouched, 
and  there  the  dark  archway  through  which  Gerard  had  run, 
his  heart  beating  thickly  with  the  hope  of  escape,  and  the 
thought  of  the  horse  waiting  beyond  the  ramparts  and  the 
moat. 

I  fancied  I  could  see  the  prince,  handsome  still,  in  the 
fashion  of  dress  he  affected,  since  the  days  of  the  Water 
Beggars'  fame.  A  stately  figure  in  his  rough  and  wide-brimmed 
hat,  with  the  silk  cord  of  the  Beggars  round  the  felt  crown; 
and  I  could  almost  smell  the  smoke  from  the  murderer's 
pistol,  bought  with  the  money  William's  generosity  had  given. 
There  were  the  holes  in  the  wall  made  by  the  poisoned  bullets. 
How  real  it  all  seemed,  how  the  centuries  between  slipped 


NELL   VAN    BUREN'S    POINT    OF   VIEW      53 

away !  Let  me  see,  what  had  the  date  been  ?  I  ought  to  remem 
ber.  July  — 

"Phil,  what  day  of  the  month  is  this  ?"  I  demanded  with 
a  start. 

Phil  turned  at  the  open  door  of  the  dining-hall,  which  I 
could  see  had  been  made  into  a  museum. 

"July  tenth,"  she  answered  promptly;  for  you  can  never 
catch  Phil  tripping  as  to  a  date,  or  a  day  of  the  week,  even  if 
you  should  shake  her  out  of  her  first  sleep  to  ask. 

"Then  it's  the  anniversary  of  his  death!"  I  exclaimed. 
"July  10,  1584,  it  was.  How  strange  we  should  have  come  on 
the  very  day!  It  makes  it  seem  a  pilgrimage." 

"I  don't  find  it  strange,"  said  Cousin  Robert.  "Many 
people  come  every  day  of  the  year." 

Having  thus  poured  the  cold  water  of  common  sense  on 
my  sentiment,  he  dragged  us  into  the  dining-hall  museum  to 
see  relics  of  William,  and  I  should  have  been  resentful,  had 
riot  my  eyes  suddenly  met  other  eyes  looking  down  from  the 
wall.  They  were  the  eyes  of  William  the  Silent  himself  when 
he  was  young  —  painted  eyes,  yet  they  spoke  to  me. 

I  don't  know  how  fine  that  portrait  may  be  as  a  work  of 
art,  but  it  is  marvelously  real.  I  understood  in  a  moment  why 
little,  half-deformed  Anna  of  Saxony  had  been  so  mad  to 
marry  him ;  I  knew  that,  in  her  place,  I  should  have  overcome 
just  as  many  obstacles  to  make  that  dark,  haunting  face  the 
face  of  my  husband. 

Of  course  I've  often  read  that  William  of  Orange  was  a 
handsome  man,  as  well  as  a  dashing  and  extravagant  gallant 
in  his  young  days,  but  never  till  now  had  I  realized  how  singu 
larly  attractive  he  must  have  been.  The  face  in  the  portrait 
was  sad,  and  as  thoughtful  as  if  he  had  sat  to  the  artist  on  the 
day  he  heard  the  dreadful  secret  of  the  fate  which  Philip  of 
Spain  and  Francis  of  France  were  plotting  for  the  Nether 
lands,  the  day  that  decided  his  future,  and  gave  him  his  name 


54  THE   CHAPERON 

of  "William  the  Silent."  Yet  in  spite  of  its  melancholy,  al 
most  sternness,  it  won  me  as  no  pictured  face  of  a  man  ever 
did  before. 

"This  is  a  great  day  for  me,"  I  said  to  Phil,  who  was  close 
behind;  "not  only  am  I  seeing  Holland  for  the  first  time,  but 
I've  fallen  in  love  with  William  the  Silent." 

I  laughed  as  I  made  this  announcement,  though  I  was  half 
in  earnest;  and  turning  to  see  whether  I  had  shocked  Cousin 
Robert,  I  found  him  in  conversation  with  a  tall,  black-haired 
young  man,  near  the  door. 

The  man  —  he  wore  a  gray  suit,  and  carried  a  straw  hat  in 
his  hand  —  had  his  back  to  me,  and  I  remembered  having  seen 
the  same  back  in  the  museum  before  we  came  in.  Now  he 
was  going  out,  and  evidently  he  and  Cousin  Robert  had  rec 
ognized  each  other  as  acquaintances.  As  I  looked,  he  turned, 
and  I  saw  his  face.  It  was  so  like  the  face  of  the  portrait  that 
I  felt  myself  grow  red.  How  I  did  hope  he  hadn't  overheard 
that  silly  speech ! 

For  a  moment  his  eyes  and  mine  met  as  mine  had  met  the 
eyes  of  the  portrait.  Then  he  shook  hands  with  Robert  and 
was  gone. 

"Very  odd,"  said  my  cousin  the  giant,  strolling  toward 
us  again,  "that  was  Rudolph  Brederode.  And,"  he  glanced 
at  me,  "his  nickname  among  his  friends  is  William  the 
Silent." 

"Why  ?"  I  asked,  pretending  unconsciousness. 

"Don't  you  think  there  is  a  likeness  ?" 

"I'm  bad  at  seeing  likenesses,"  said  I. 

"Why,  Nell,  I  don't  think  you  are,"  Phil  defended  me 
against  myself.  "You're  always  seeing  the  strangest  resem 
blances  between  clouds  and  animals,  and  plants  and  people, 
and  there's  no  end  to  what  you  find  on  wall  papers.  This 
very  day  you  thought  Mr.  Starr  like  Robert  Louis  Stevenson, 
though  I " 


NELL   VAN   BUREN'S    POINT   OF   VIEW      55 

"That's  when  my  imagination's  running  loose,"  I  explained. 
"Cousin  Robert  is  talking  about  facts." 

"Oh!  "said  Phil. 

"It's  rather  an  ugly  portrait,"  I  went  on;  "I  don't  suppose 
William  of  Orange  was  like  it  one  bit." 

"But  we  have  two  reasons  for  calling  Brederode  the  Taci 
turn,"  said  Robert.  "He  has  a  way  to  keep  still  about  things 
which  other  people  discuss.  Sometimes  it  makes  men  angry, 
but  especially  the  ladies.  Brederode  does  not  care  what  others 
think;  he  descends  from  the  great  Brederode,  but  he  is  dif 
ferent." 

"The  Water  Beggar  was  brave,"  I  remarked. 

"Rudolph  is  brave,"  retorted  Cousin  Robert,  firing  up. 
"You  will  think  so  to-morrow." 

"What  is  he  going  to  do  ?"  I  asked.  "Something  to  startle 
Holland  ?" 

"Holland  has  seen  him  do  it  before,  but  you  have  not. 
You  will  see  him  ride  better  than  any  one  else  in  the  jumping 
contests  at  the  Concours  Hippique  at  Scheveningen.  It  will 
be  a  fine  show,  but  Brederode  and  his  horses  will  be  the  best. 
My  mother  has  a  box.  She  will  take  you." 

"But  I  thought  you  were  going  to  take  us  to  The  Hague 
and  the  Huis  ten  Bosch  ?" 

"That  will  be  in  the  early  morning.  Perhaps  my  sis 
ters  will  go;  and  after  we  have  finished  the  pictures  at 
The  Hague,  we  will  meet  iny  mother  and  my  fiancee, 
Freule  Menela  van  der  Windt,  at  the  race  grounds  about 
two,  and  the  show  will  not  be  over  till  seven,  so  dinner  will 
be  late." 

"You  Dutch  are  a  strong  race,"  I  murmured. 

"Brederode  says  he  always  comes  here  when  he's  anywhere 
in  the  neighborhood,  for  a  look  at  the  Prinzenhof  on  the  tenth 
of  July,"  Robert  went  on.  "Odd,  is  it  not  ?" 

"No  more  odd  than  that  we  should  have  been  here,"  said 


56  THE   CHAPERON 

I.  But  I  said  this  in  a  low  voice;  and  it's  only  a  man  who  is 
in  love  with  a  girl  who  hears  her  when  she  mutters. 

"He  asked  how  the  automobile  was  going,  and  I  mentioned 
one  or  two  things  that  bothered  me,  so  he  has  gone  out  to 
talk  to  the  chauffeur,"  Cousin  Robert  continued,  unable  to 
turn  his  thoughts  from  his  Admirable  Crichton.  "Don't  you 
think  you've  seen  enough  ?  It  is  late;  and  when  I  told  Breder- 
ode  I  was  showing  Delft  to  my  American  cousin  and  an 
English  friend,  he  said  I  must  take  you  to  the  New  Church, 
the  tomb  of  William,  and  of  Hugo  Grotius.  He  wanted  you  to 
go  to  the  Old  Church  too,  and  see  the  place  where  van  Tromp 
lies,  but  we  shall  not  have  time.  Besides,  it  would  not  please 
Miss  Rivers. " 

"Why  not  ?"  asked  Phyllis,  large-eyed. 

"You  are  English,  and  the  English  do  not  like  to  remember 
that  Holland,  through  van  Tromp,  swept  them  off  the  seas  — 

"Oh,  I  remember,  he  stuck  up  a  broom  on  the  mast,"  cut 
in  Phil.  "But  it  was  long  ago." 

"How  is  it  that  the  tombs  of  William  and  Grotius  can  be 
in  a  new  church  ?"  I  reflected  aloud. 

"It  is  newer  than  the  other,  for  it  was  founded  in  thirteen 
hundred  and  something,"  said  Cousin  Robert;  "I  suppose 
you  ought  to  see  it,  even  if  dinner  should  be  late.  For,  as 
Brederode  says,  'Delft  is  the  heart  of  Holland,  and  the  New 
Church  is  the  core  of  that  heart.'  It  is  for  us  what  your  West 
minster  Abbey  is  to  you,  Miss  Rivers." 

We  went  out  from  the  old  convent  palace  with  its  arched 
windows  and  narrow  doors  into  the  gold  and  green  light  of  the 
Delft  afternoon.  In  the  street  outside  the  courtyard  stood  the 
automobile,  and  the  chauffeur  was  polishing  something  on  it 
(people  in  Holland  seem  always  to  be  polishing  something,  if 
they  are  obliged  to  stand  still  for  a  moment),  but  Mr.  Rudolph 
Brederode,  alias  William  the  Silent,  had  vanished,  and  I  was 
glad. 


NELL   VAN    BUREN'S    POINT   OF   VIEW      57 

We  got  into  the  motor-car  again,  passing  with  every  few 
yards  some  beautiful  old  building.  But  one  thing  in  Delft 
disappointed  me;  I  saw  no  storks,  and  I  expected  the  air  to 
be  dark  with  storks. 

"I  don't  think  there  are  any  now,"  said  Robert,  apolo 
getically,  "though  Brederode  would  know." 

"Isn't  it  true  that  the  stork's  the  patron  saint  of  Delft  ?"  I 
asked.  "Wasn't  it  here  you  had  the  fire  which  nearly  ruined  the 
city,  hundreds  of  years  ago,  and  the  parent  storks  wouldn't 
leave  their  babies,  but  died  covering  them  up  with  their  wings  ? 
And  didn't  Holland  take  the  stork,  after  that,  for  a  kind  of 
—  of  motto  for  the  whole  country  because  it  was  so  brave 
and  faithful?" 

"Yes,"  Robert  admitted,  "Delft  is  not  tired  of  storks,  but 
storks  are  tired  of  Delft.  You  can  offer  them  nice  nests  on 
long  poles,  and  all  kinds  of  inducements,  to  live  in  a  certain 
place,  but  unless  they  choose,  you  cannot  make  them  do 
anything. " 

"Ah,  now  I  know  why  the  Dutch  have  canonized  storks!" 
I  exclaimed. 

And  just  then  we  arrived  at  the  New  Church,  which  looked 
inconceivably  old,  and  inside  was  like  a  vast  prison.  But  the 
tomb  of  black  and  white  marble  was  fine,  almost  too  fine,  too 
much  encrusted  with  ornament  to  perpetuate  the  memory  of 
William  the  Silent.  Still,  I  felt  a  thrill  as  I  stood  looking  at 
the  white,  recumbent  figure  of  the  man  who  made  Holland, 
and  altered  the  face  of  Europe,  resting  so  quietly  after  the 
storms  of  life,  with  his  dog  at  his  feet  —  the  loyal  little  beast 
who  saved  him  at  Malines,  and  starved  to  death  in  the  end, 
rather  than  live  on  in  a  dull  world  empty  of  its  master. 

I  lingered  for  many  minutes,  remembering  the  eyes  of  the 
portrait,  so  warm  with  life  and  power,  and  Phil  had  to  come 
and  lead  me  away  to  the  tomb  of  Hugo  Grotius,  the  "miracle 
of  Europe."  Even  Robert  grew  warm  on  the  subject  of 


58  THE   CHAPERON 

Grotius,  and  put  him  ahead  of  Pitt,  as  the  youthful  prodigy 
of  the  world.  What  had  he  left  unaccomplished  when  he  was 
eighteen  ?  And  what  story  had  ever  been  written  by  Dumas, 
or  any  other,  to  compare  with  his  in  melodramatic  interest  ? 
I  didn't  know  enough  details  of  the  brilliant  being's  history  to 
argue  (although  I  have  always  the  most  intense  yearning  to 
argue  with  Cousin  Robert),  but  I  made  a  note  to  read  them 
up,  in  case  I  should  ever  be  called  upon  to  write  a  historical 
novel  at  short  notice. 

Robert  discouraged  Phil  from  buying  the  ware  of  Delft  on 
its  native  heath,  and  we  spun  along  twice  as  fast  in  leaving  the 
town  as  we  had  in  coming,  either  because  a  Dutchman's 
dinner-hour  is  sacred,  or  because  this  particular  Dutchman 
was  anxious  to  exchange  our  society  for  that  of  his  fiancee.  We 
flew  over  the  smooth  klinker  road  at  such  a  rate  that,  had  it 
been  England,  a  policeman  would  have  sprung  from  every 
bush.  Nobody  seemed  to  mind  here,  however;  and  the  few 
horses  we  met  had  the  air  of  turning  up  their  noses  at  us, 
despite  the  physical  difficulty  in  evoking  that  expression  on  an 
equine  profile. 

The  country  grew  prettier.  It  was  the  sort  of  landscape 
old-fashioned  artists  used  to  produce  out  of  their  abundant 
imagination,  scorning  to  be  tied  down  by  models,  dashing  in 
anything  charming  or  outre  which  they  happened  to  think  of 
at  the  moment,  and  jumbling  together  an  extravagant  whole 
too  good  to  be  true.  But  there  were  only  a  few  miles  of  it 
left  after  Delft:  and  we  hadn't  reveled  in  impossibly  delicious 
farm-yards  and  supernaturally  bowery  gardens  half  long 
enough,  when  we  ran  into  the  outskirts  of  The  Hague  — "S. 
Gravenhage,"  as  I  love  to  call  it  to  myself. 

Until  this  moment,  I'd  been  mentally  patronizing  Holland, 
admiring  it,  and  wondering  at  it,  of  course,  but  half-conscious- 
ly  saying  that  quaintness,  snugness,  and  historical  interest 
were  all  we  could  expect  of  the  Low  Country.  Elegance  and 


NELL   VAN    BUREN'S    POINT    OF   VIEW      59 

beauty  of  form  we  mustn't  look  for:  but  I  found  myself 
surrounded  by  it  in  The  Hague.  There  were  streets  of  tall, 
brown  palaces,  far  finer  than  the  royal  dwelling  which  Robert 
pointed  out;  the  shops  made  me  long  to  spring  from  the  car 
and  spend  every  penny  set  apart  for  the  tour;  the  Binnenhof  - 
that  sinister  theater  of  Dutch  history  —  with  its  strangely 
grouped  towers  and  palaces,  and  its  huge  squares,  made  me 
feel  an  insignificant  insect  with  no  right  to  opinions  of  any 
kind;  and  as  I  gazed  up  at  the  dark,  medieval  buildings, 
vague  visions  of  Cornelis  and  John  de  Witt  in  their  torture, 
of  van  Oldenbarneveld,  and  fair  Adelaide  de  Poelgust  stabbed 
and  bleeding,  flitted  fearfully  through  my  brain.  I  wanted  to 
get  out  and  look  for  the  stone  where  Adelaide  had  fallen  to 
die  (how  well  I  remembered  that  story,  told  in  twilight  and 
firelight  by  my  father !),  and  only  the  set  of  Robert's  shoulders 
deterred  me.  What  was  a  romantic  fragment  of  history,  com 
pared  to  the  certainty  that  the  roast  would  be  overdone  ? 

But  when  we  swept  into  the  green-gold  dusk  of  the  forest, 
I  forgot  such  trivialities  as  buildings  made  by  man. 

Suddenly  we  were  in  a  different  world,  an  old,  old  world, 
with  magic  that  lurked  in  each  dusky  vista,  breathed  from  the 
perfume  of  leaf  and  fern,  and  whispered  in  the  music  of  the 
trees,  as  if  we  had  strayed  upon  the  road  that  leads  to  fairy 
land. 

"Fancy  seeing  fairyland  from  the  motor-car!"  I  said  to 
myself.  "I  never  thought  to  go  in  such  a  fashion,  though  I've 
been  sure  that  one  day  or  another  I  would  find  the  way  there 
through  such  a  forest  as  this." 

I  felt  that,  if  I  walked  here  alone,  I  might  see  something 
more  mysterious  than  alder-trees,  than  giant  beeches,  and 
ancient  oaks;  than  glints  of  flower-strewn  waters  shining  out  of 
shadow  in  green  darkness  deep  and  cool;  than  rustic  bridges 
twined  with  creepers,  or  kiosks  glimmering  at  the  end  of  long, 
straight  alleys.  I  should  have  seen  processions  of  dim  figures; 


60  THE   CHAPERON 

chanting  Druids  and  their  victims;  wild,  fierce  warriors,  and 
blue-eyed  women,  their  white  arms  and  the  gold  of  their  long 
hair  shining  through  the  mist  of  centuries. 

But  then,  I  was  in  the  motor-car :  and  though  Robert,  in  a 
different  and  more  sketchy  costume,  would  have  been  a  gallant 
Batavian  warrior,  there  would  be  a  certain  indecorousness  in 
permitting  my  fancy  to  make  the  necessary  changes.  I  had  to 
content  myself,  therefore,  with  things  as  they  were;  with  the 
teuf-teuf  of  the  automobile  instead  of  the  wild  wailing  of  white- 
robed  Druids,  and  with  the  coming  and  going  of  modern  car 
riages  under  the  shadowy  branches,  instead  of  strange  chariots 
of  bygone  kings. 

After  all,  we  did  not  find  fairy-land  but  merely  villa-land, 
when  we  flashed  out  from  the  mysterious  heart  of  the  forest; 
but  the  villas  were  charming,  scattered  in  the  woods,  ringed 
with  flowery  lawns,  and  not  one  without  a  huge  veranda  like 
a  garden-room,  fitted  up  with  so  many  cushioned  sofas,  easy- 
chairs,  and  little  tables,  that  it  was  clear  the  family  life  was 
lived  there. 

"I  do  hope  my  Dutch  cousin's  house  at  Scheveningen  is  as 
pretty  as  these,"  I  said  to  myself.  "It  would  be  delicious  to 
visit  in  a  garden-room";  but  presently  we  slipped  out  of  the 
shade  into  sunlight,  and  were  in  a  town  of  brick  streets,  huge 
hotels,  with  flags  all  a-flutter  in  a  spanking,  salt-smelling 
breeze,  gay  little  shops  and  houses  such  as  grow  up  by  the  sea. 
It  was  Scheveningen. 

I  blinked  in  the  blaze  of  sunlight  which  tore  open  the 
green  veil  of  dusk,  and  the  air,  though  tingling  with  ozone,  felt 
hot  after  the  depths  of  the  forest. 

Not  a  flower,  not  a  garden  was  to  be  seen,  yet  Scheveningen 
was  a  flower-garden  of  color  in  itself.  Where  the  color  came 
from  you  could  scarcely  say,  yet  it  struck  at  your  eyes  from  all 
directions.  Flags  flamed,  roofs  were  red  as  beds  of  geraniums; 
or  else  they  were  green,  or  else  they  were  vivid  yellow.  The 


NELL   VAN   BUREN'S   POINT   OF   VIEW     61 

hotels  were  of  quaint  design,  with  a  suggestion  of  the  Oriental ; 
the  shops  had  covered  galleries,  and  the  people  moving  in  the 
big,  circular  place  into  which  we  drove  —  the  place  of  the 
Kurhaus  and  of  the  circus  —  were  drifting  particles  of  the 
bright  mosaic;  tall,  dark  young  officers  (not  at  all  typically 
Dutch  according  to  preconceived  ideas)  in  green  and  crimson 
or  bright  blue  uniforms;  pretty  girls  in  white  with  rose-trim 
med  or  scarlet  hats ;  nursemaids  in  the  costume  of  some  remote 
province,  the  sunlight  setting  their  gold  head-ornaments  on 
fire;  tiny  children  in  blue  sailor-suits,  or  with  a  little  red  fez  on 
a  yellow  head;  old,  white-haired  gentlemen  holding  on  un 
suitable  top-hats  as  they  walked  against  the  wind;  white- 
aproned  waiters  flitting  about  restaurant  verandas,  carrying 
pink  ices,  or  baskets  of  fruit,  like  jewels. 

It  was  a  gay  scene,  but  Robert  said  it  was  nothing  to  the 
"high  season,"  which  began  on  the  first  of  August,  and  brought 
throngs  of  fashionable  people  from  all  over  Europe.  As  for  the 
top-hats  at  which  I  laughed,  he  defended  them  stoutly,  saying 
they  were  as  much  de  rigueur  at  The  Hague  as  in  London,  and 
he  could  see  nothing  comic  in  wearing  them  at  the  seaside. 

Still  wre  had  had  no  glimpse  of  the  sea;  but  Robert  turned 
the  car,  and  driving  between  two  gigantic  hotels,  ran  down  to 
a  beach  with  sands  of  gleaming  gold,  and  a  background  of 
wind-blown  dunes  billowing  away  as  far  as  the  eye  could 
reach.  The  very  wildness  of  this  background  gave  a  bizarre 
sort  of  charm  to  the  fantastic  buildings  which  made  up  the 
fashionable  center  of  Scheveningen. 

In  the  center,  the  Kurhaus  dominated  all;  hotel,  restaurant, 
concert-room,  theater,  in  one.  Terrace  below  terrace  it  de 
scended  and  sent  out  into  the  green  water  of  the  North  Sea 
a  great  pier  blossoming  with  flags.  But  the  most  individual 
feature  was  the  large  and  enterprising  family  of  "wind  stoels" 
—  dear,  cozy  basket-houses  for  one,  like  green  and  yellow  bee 
hives  cut  in  half,  or  giant  sunbonnets,  crowding  the  beach 


62  THE    CHAPERON 

behind  the  bathing-machines.  There  one  could  nestle,  self- 
contained  as  a  hermit-crab  in  a  shell,  defying  east  wind  or 
baking  sun,  happy  with  a  book,  or  the  person  one  liked  best  in 
a  twin  wind-stoel  opposite. 

Reposeful  gaiety  seemed  at  this  first  glance  to  be  the  note 
struck  by  Scheveningen,  and  the  air  was  buoyant  as  I  had 
never  known  air  to  be  before. 

"If  you  visit  us  in  August,"  said  Robert,  "you  will  hear  the 
best  operas,  see  the  best  automobile  races,  the  most  exciting 
motor-boat  races 

"But  we  shall  be  on  our  own  motor-boat  in  August,"  said  I. 

"I  do  not  think  so.  You  will  perhaps  let  your  boat.  We 
will  talk  to  my  mother,"  Robert  answered,  as  one  soothes  a 
fractious  child.  Then,  before  I  had  breath  to  answer,  he  swept 
us  away  from  the  beach,  and  drew  up  before  an  aggressively 
comfortable  villa  on  a  terrace  opening  to  the  sea. 


VI 

THERE  was  a  garden-room  with  flower-painted  walls, 
and  Japanese  furniture  and  silk  things;  and  in  the 
garden-room  stood  Cousin  Robert's  mother.  The 
great  glass  doors  were  wide  open,  and  she  moved 
slowly  to  the  threshold  to  meet  us. 

Yes,  she  is  far  too  large  to  come  and  call  upon  a  stranger ; 
far,  far  too  large  for  the  motor-boat. 

I  saw  in  a  flash  why  Robert  put  the  family  dinner-hour  be 
fore  the  most  important  historical  events  which  helped  to  make 
Holland.  If  his  jaw  is  square  enough,  his  gray  eyes  piercing 
enough  to  make  his  mother  feel  it  convenient  to  entertain 
unknown  guests,  whatever  her  plans  and  inclinations,  there's 
no  doubt  that  her  personality  is  more  than  commanding 
enough  to  exact  respect  for  domestic  arrangements. 

Tt  would  need  such  a  giant  as  Robert  not  to  be  overawed 
by  her,  outside  domestic  matters;  and  as  for  myself,  though 
her  pretty,  smooth  gray  hair  parts  in  the  middle,  and  her 
cheeks  grew  as  pink  as  a  baby's  when  she  smiled  and  told  me 
in  nice  English  to  call  her  "Cousin  Cornelia,"  I  knew  that  if 
she  said  black  were  white  I  would  instantly  agree  with  her. 

There  are  glass  doors  between  the  garden-room  and  a 
drawing-room  behind.  They  were  closed,  because  the  Dutch 
(I  am  already  learning)  like  to  draw  a  firm  dividing  line 
between  being  in  the  house  and  in  the  open  air;  and  I  could 
see  through  the  glass  a  half-length,  life-size  portrait  of  a 
humorous  little  brown  gentleman,  who  was,  no  doubt,  Cousin 
Cornelia's  late  husband,  and  Robert's  father.  Taking  this  for 
granted,  it's  evident  that  Robert  gets  his  inches  and  his  blond 

63 


64  THE   CHAPERON 

splendor  of  looks  from  his  mother.  There  was  so  much  of 
Cousin  Cornelia  in  her  black  and  white  spotted  muslin,  that  at 
first  I  was  conscious  of  her  presence  alone.  It  was  only  her 
rich  voice  (like  Devonshire  cream,  all  in  soft  lumps  when  the 
English  words  were  difficult)  introducing  "Freule  Menela  van 
der  Windt,  and  your  two  cousins,  Lisbeth  and  Lilli,"  which 
made  me  aware  that  others  were  present. 

I  turned  to  the  fiancee  first,  and  found  her  a  dark,  thin,  near 
sighted  girl,  with  eye-glasses  that  pinched  her  nose,  and  per 
haps  her  temper  as  well,  for  there  isn't  a  line  of  her  face  which 
won't  be  cross-grained  when  she  is  old.  She  looked  hard 
through  her  glasses  at  me  and  at  Phil,  taking  stock  of  us  both, 
and  didn't  offer  to  shake  hands;  but  Lisbeth  and  Lllli,  ador 
able  strawberry-and-cream  girls,  twins  of  fifteen  or  sixteen, 
put  out  dimpled  fingers. 

Cousin  Cornelia  asked  how  we  liked  Holland,  but  without 
waiting  for  us  to  answer,  told  off  Lisbeth  and  Lilli  to  show  us 
our  room,  as  there  was  only  just  time  to  wash  away  the  dust  of 
motoring. 

I  was  awestruck  by  Cousin  Cornelia,  and  depressed  by 
Menela;  still  I  hugged  the  thought  that  we  were  in  luck  to 
see  the  inside  of  a  Dutch  home,  and  determined  to  make  the 
most  of  our  experience,  which  may  not  occur  again. 

I  never  supposed  it  possible  for  the  interior  of  a  house  to 
shine  as  this  does.  Everything  shines,  even  things  that  no  one 
expects  to  present  a  polished  surface.  For  instance,  does  any 
body  (not  Dutch)  call  upon  wralls  to  behave  as  if  they  were 
mirrors  ?  Yet  as  I  went  up  the  rather  steep  stairs  of  the  Villa 
van  Buren  I  could  see  each  movement  I  made,  each  rise  and 
fall  of  an  eyelash  repeated  on  a  surface  of  brilliantly  varnished 
walnut. 

"What  wonderful  wood !"  I  exclaimed. 

"It  is  not  real.  It  is  paint,"  said  pretty  Lisbeth.  "Do  you 
not  have  walls  like  this  ?" 


NELL   VAN    BUREN'S    POINT   OF   VIEW      65 

"Never,  "I  replied. 

"Every  one  does  in  Holland.  We  admire  them,"  explained 
Lilli. 

"But  what  a  lot  of  work  to  keep  them  so  bright." 

"It  is  only  done  once  a  day,"  she  said  apologetically.  "The 
servant  does  it  when  she  has  finished  the  windows. " 

"What  —  all  the  windows  in  the  house  —  every  day  ?" 

"How  else  would  they  be  clean  ?"  asked  Lisbeth,  surprised. 

There  was  no  answer  to  this,  from  a  Dutch  point  of  view,  so 
I  remarked  meekly  that  it  must  take  all  the  servant's  time. 

"It  is  what  they  like,"  said  Lilli.  "But  we  have  another 
woman  for  the  floors  and  beating  out  the  rugs,  and  doing  the 
brass,  so  it  is  not  so  much." 

"Floors  and  rugs  and  brass  every  day,  too  ?" 

"Of  course,"  returned  both  girls  together,  as  if  I  had  asked 
them  about  their  baths  or  their  tooth-brushes.  "O/  course." 

Lisbeth  opened  the  door  of  a  front  room  on  the  second 
floor. 

"This  is  the  spare  room,"  said  she,  and  advanced  cautiously 
through  the  dusk  caused  by  the  closing  of  the  shutters. "We 
keep  them  so  in  the  afternoon,"  she  explained,  "because  of  the 
sunshine." 

"Yes,  otherwise  the  room  would  be  hot,  I  suppose  ?" 

"We  do  not  mind  its  being  hot.  It  is  because  the  sun  would 
fade  the  carpet  and  the  curtains. "  She  threw  open  the  blinds 
as  she  spoke,  but  carefully  shut  both  windows  again. 

"Oh,  mayn't  we  have  them  open  ?"  I  ventured  to  ask.  "The 
air  is  lovely." 

"If  you  like,"  my  cousin  replied.  "Only,  if  you  do,  the  sand 
may  blow  in." 

"Just  at  the  top  then." 

"At  the  top  ?  I  have  not  seen  a  window  that  opens  at  the 
top.  We  do  not  have  them  made  so." 

"How  funny!  But  I  suppose  there  must  be  a  reason  why 


66  THE   CHAPERON 

a  whole  nation  should  go  on  having  windows  that  won't  open 
at  the  top." 

"I  do  not  know,  except  that  we  have  always  had  them  like 
that,  so  probably  it  is  better  to  go  on,"  said  Lilli,  after  a  few 
seconds'  reflection,  during  which  she  looked  exceedingly 
charming.  She  and  Lisbeth  made  no  attempt  at  having  figures, 
but  their  faces  are  perfect,  and  their  long  tails  of  hair  are  fair 
and  glossy  as  the  silk  of  American  corn. 

When  the  twins  left  us  to  our  own  devices,  I  was  for  simply 
washing  hands  and  faces;  but  Phil  fiercely  tore  off  her  blouse, 
and  made  herself  pink  with  the  effort  of  unearthing  another 
from  our  box. 

"What  does  it  matter  about  changing  ?"  I  asked.  "There's 
no  time,  and  they  don't  expect  it.  Besides,  our  things  are  as 
good  as  theirs  —  except  Miss  van  der  Windt's.  She's  very 
smart  —  to  make  up  for  her  plainness." 

"That's  just  the  point,"  said  Phil,  struggling  into  a  white, 
medallioned  blouse  that  fastened  as  intricately  as  the  working 
of  a  prize  puzzle.  "I've  taken  such  a  dislike  to  her,  and  she 
to  us." 

"How  do  you  know  ?" 

"I  can't  tell  how.  But  I  do  know.  And  I  want  our  frocks  to 
be  prettier  than  hers.  Do  change,  like  a  pet.  I'll  hook  you  up,  if 
you'll  do  me.  Come,  you  might.  You  would  bring  me  abroad." 

"Oh,  all  right!" 

So  I  changed.  And  by  dint  of  supernatural  speed  we  were 
ready  to  leave  our  green-and-pink  doll's  bedroom  just  as  a 
Japanese  gong  moaned  an  apology  for  supplying  us  with  din 
ner  instead  of  tea. 

Once  in  a  "blue  moon"  Phil  and  I  are  invited  by  some  one 
to  dine  at  the  Carlton  or  the  Savoy,  or  at  houses  where  the 
dinners  are  long  and  elaborate;  but  memories  of  those  dinners 
pale  before  the  reality  of  this  at  the  Villa  van  Buren,  in  a 
handsome,  shut-up  dining-room. 


NELL  VAN   BUREN'S   POINT  OF  VIEW     67 

There  were  hors  d'oeuwes,  and  shell  fish,  and  soup,  and 
another  kind  of  fish ;  and  after  that  began  a  long  procession  of 
meat  and  birds,  cooked  in  delicious,  rich  sauces.  There  were 
so  many  that  I  lost  count,  as  Noah  must  when  he  stood  at  the 
ark  door  to  receive  the  animals  as  they  came  along,  two  by 
two;  but  these  were  a  little  easier  to  keep  track  of,  because  you 
could  remind  yourself  by  saying:  "That  was  the  one  done  up 
in  currant  juice;  that  was  the  one  with  compote  of  cherries," 
and  so  on;  which,  of  course,  Noah  couldn't. 

Phil's  capacity  and  mine  was  exhausted  comparatively  early 
in  the  feast,  but  everybody  else  was  eating  steadily  on,  so  we 
dared  not  refuse  a  course,  lest  it  should  be  considered  rude  in 
Holland.  We  did  our  best,  straight  through  to  a  wonderful  iced 
pudding,  and  managed  a  crumb  of  spiced  cheese;  but  when 
raw  currants  appeared,  we  had  to  draw  the  line.  The  others 
called  them  "bessen,"  pulling  the  red  beads  off  their  stems  with 
a  fork,  and  sprinkling  them  with  sugar,  but  my  blood  curdled 
at  the  sight  of  this  dreadful  fruit,  and  my  mouth  crinkled  up 
inside. 

Although  we  sat  down  at  six,  it  was  after  eight  when  we 
rose,  and  as  the  windows  were  shut,  the  room  was  suffocating. 
Everybody  looked  flushed,  and  I  dared  not  hope,  after  exclud 
ing  the  air  for  so  long,  that  we  should  be  allowed  a  breath  of  it 
later.  But  Cousin  Cornelia,  as  a  matter  of  course,  led  the  way 
into  the  garden-room,  where  lamps,  shaded  with  rose-colored 
silk,  had  now  been  lighted  on  two  of  the  book-  and  magazine- 
strewn  tables. 

The  strong  air  of  the  sea  blew  blessedly  upon  us,  seeming 
cold  after  the  heat  of  the  dining-room,  but  Cousin  Cornelia 
did  not  even  wrap  a  shawl  about  her  shoulders.  We  were 
out-of-doors  now,  and  it  was  right  to  have  air,  so  you  took  it 
for  granted,  and  did  not  suffer.  But  indoors,  what  were 
windows  for  if  you  did  not  keep  them  closed  ?  It  seemed 
a  waste  of  good  material,  and  therefore  a  tempting  of 


68  THE   CHAPERON 

Providence  to  take  revenge  by  sending  you  bronchitis  or 

rheumatism. 

It  was  exquisite  in  the  garden-room.  Sea  and  sky  mingled 
in  a  haze  of  tender  blue.  All  the  air  was  blue,  spangled  with 
the  lights  of  the  pier;  and  our  lamps,  and  the  shaded  lamps 
of  other  garden-rooms,  glowed  in  the  azure  dusk  like  burning 
flowers,  roses,  and  daffodils,  and  tulips. 

We  had  coffee  in  cups  small  and  delicate  as  egg-shells,  and 
the  old  silver  spoons  were  spoons  for  dolls  or  fairies. 

Robert  asked  if  we  would  like  to  go  to  the  circus,  which 
could  not,  he  said,  be  surpassed  in  Europe;  or  to  a  classical 
concert  at  the  Kurhaus :  but  we  were  contented  in  the  garden- 
room,  with  the  music  of  the  sea.  We  talked  of  many  things, 
and  if  Robert  is  deficient  in  a  knowledge  of  history,  the  others 
make  up  for  his  ignorance.  They  know  something  of  every 
thing;  and  even  the  apple-blossom  twins  could  put  Phyllis 
and  me  to  shame,  if  they  were  not  too  polite,  on  the  subject  of 
modern  musicians  and  painters. 

They  speak  French,  German,  and  Italian,  as  well  as  Eng 
lish:  a  smattering  of  Spanish  too;  yet  they  said  modestly,  when 
we  exclaimed  at  their  accomplishments,  that  it  was  nothing; 
hardly  anybody  would  learn  Dutch,  so  the  Dutch  must  learn 
the  languages  of  other  nations. 

As  for  Freule  Menela  (I  must  not  call  her  "Miss,"  it  seems, 
because  "Freule"  is  a  kind  of  title)  she  is  the  cleverest  of  ail, 
as  the  sweet  twins  tried  to  make  us  understand ;  and  the  pretty 
creatures  are  proud  of  her,  thinking  little  of  their  own  beauty. 
Sometimes  I  fancied  that  a  shade  of  contempt  passed  over  her 
face  when  Robert  ventured  a  remark  which  showed  him  more 
accomplished  as  sportsman  than  scholar;  but,  if  she  noticed 
that  he  turned  to  Phil  or  me  with  any  brightening  of  interest, 
she  at  once  took  pains  to  engage  his  attention. 

They  talked  in  low,  pleasant  voices,  scarcely  raising  their 
tones  or  making  a  gesture;  and  there  was  always  that  faint 


NELL   VAN   BUREN'S   POINT   OF   VIEW     69 

suggestion  of  the  Scotch  accent,  whether  they  spoke  English 
or  broke  into  Dutch.  When  I  remarked  upon  it,  Cousin  Cor 
nelia  laughed  and  said  it  was  perhaps  the  common  Celtic 
ancestry;  and  that  if  the  Dutch  heard  Gaelic  talked,  they 
could  recognize  a  few  words  here  and  there. 

It  was  not  more  than  an  hour  after  we  finished  our  coffee, 
that  tea  was  brought,  with  more  beautiful  china,  and  a  great 
deal  of  handsome  silver.  What  with  this  potent  mixture  of 
stimulants,  and  being  in  a  new  house,  and  thinking  exciting 
thoughts  of  the  future,  I  felt  I  shouldn't  be  able  to  sleep. 
Nevertheless,  after  we'd  said  good-night,  and  Phil  and  I  were 
undressing,  I  was  not  pleased  when  Cousin  Cornelia  knocked 
at  the  door. 

"She  has  come  about  the  motor-boat,"  I  thought,  "to  tell 
us  we  oughtn't  to  go.  Heaven  grant  me  strength  to  resist." 
For  in  her  quilted  Japanese  silk  dressing-gown  she  looked 
larger  and  more  formidable  than  ever. 

Not  a  word  did  she  say  about  the  motor-boat  at  first.  It 
was  our  past  which  seemed  to  interest  her,  not  our  future.  As 
a  relation  she  has  the  right  to  ask  me  things  about  myself,  and 
Phil's  history  is  inextricably  tangled  up  with  mine. 

She  wanted  to  know  where  we  lived  in  London,  and  how: 
also  on  what,  though  she  didn't  put  it  as  crudely  as  that.  I 
was  frank,  and  told  her  about  my  serial  stories  and  Phil's 
typing. 

"I  suppose  you  think  we're  mad  to  break  up  our  work  and 
go  on  a  motor-boat  tour  in  Holland,  as  if  we  were  millionaires, 
when  really  we're  poor  girls,"  I  said,  before  she  had  time  to 
reprove  us.  "But  we  have  each  about  a  hundred  and  twenty 
pounds  a  year,  whatever  happens,  so  it  isn't  as  desperate  as 
you  might  think.  Besides,  it  is  going  to  be  the  time  of  our 
lives.  Even  my  stepsister  feels  so  now,  though  she  was  against 
it  at  first,  and  neither  of  us  would  give  it  up  for  anything." 

"I  don't  think  you  should  give  it  up,"  said  Cousin  Cornelia. 


70  THE   CHAPERON 

You  might  have  knocked  me  down  with  a  feather  —  quite  a 
small  one:  for  in  her  note  she  had  said  we  must  come  and  let 
her  offer  us  good  advice  before  it  was  too  late;  and  Robert 
had  hinted  that  his  mother  meant  to  dissuade  us  from  our 
wild-goose  chase  —  in  the  company  of  Mr.  Starr  and  Mr. 
Starr's  aunt. 

"I  think  you  know  how  to  take  care  of  yourselves,"  she 
went  on. 

"And  we'll  have  a  chaperon,"  Phil  assured  her. 

"So  I  have  heard,  from  my  son.  I  have  great  faith  in  the 
Scotch.  Yes,  as  you  have  been  a  little  too  kind-hearted,  and 
promised  this  strange  young  man,  it  is  necessary  that  some 
body  should  have  an  aunt.  Otherwise,  if  you  two  had  been 
quite  alone  together,  it  would  not  so  much  have  mattered.  In 
Holland  girls  have  liberty,  more  than  anywhere  except  in  Ame 
rica.  The  bicycle  is  their  chaperon,  for  all  young  girls  and 
men  bicycle  with  us.  The  motor-boat  might  have  been  your 
chaperon.  Even  if  the  aunt  should  not  come,  perhaps  the 
nephew  could  be  got  rid  of,  and  a  way  arranged,  rather  than 
give  up  your  tour. " 

We  were  delighted,  and  I  could  have  hugged  Cousin  Cor 
nelia.  Indeed,  I  did  thank  her  warmly,  and  was  rather  sur 
prised  that  Phil,  who  usually  overflows  with  gratitude  for  the 
slightest  kindness,  was  not  more  effusive  over  my  relative's 
interest  in  our  affairs,  and  her  broad-minded  verdict. 

"She's  a  lamb,  after  all,  isn't  she  ?"  I  asked,  when  the  large 
lady  had  gone,  and  I  was  ready  to  creep  into  a  bed  only  an 
inch  too  short  for  me. 

"She  may  be  a  lamb,  but  she  isn't  going  to  let  us  shear  her, 
if  she  can  help  it,"  said  Phil,  looking  deadly  wise. 

"What  do  you  mean  ?" 

"My  dear  girl,  with  all  your  cleverness,  you're  only  a  baby 
child  about  some  things.  Don't  you  see  what's  she's  driving 
at?" 


NELL   VAN    BUREN'S   POINT   OF   VIEW     71 

I  shook  my  head,  with  my  hair  about  my  face. 

"Or  what  all  her  questions  were  leading  up  to  ?  Well,  then, 
what  do  you  think  has  made  her  change  her  mind  about  our 
motor-boating  ?" 

"She  saw  we  could  take  care  of  ourselves." 

"She  has  found  out  that  we're  poor,  and  obliged  to.  She 
supposed  from  what  your  cousin  Robert  told  her,  that  we  were 
heiresses ;  and  she  would  have  kept  us  on  a  long  visit  if  —  oh, 
you  silly  old  dear,  don't  you  see  she's  afraid  of  us  —  with  him  ? 
She'll  be  polite  and  nice,  but  she  wants  us  to  disappear. " 

"Good  gracious!" 

"Pretty  Lilli  told  me  this  evening  that  Freule  Menela  van 
der  Windt  hasn't  much  money,  but  she  comes  of  a  splendid 
family:  she's  a  distant  relation  of  that  Mr.  Brederode,  and  her 
people  are  diplomats  who  live  at  The  Hague,  though  she's  an 
orphan  and  visits  about.  If  one  of  us  were  rich  —  why  —  oh, 
it's  too  horrid  to  go  on.  Now,  maybe,  you  understand  what  I 
mean,  and  can  put  two  and  two  together  and  agree  with  me." 

"For  a  saint,  you  sometimes  develop  a  hideous  amount  of 
worldly  wisdom,  my  Phil,"  I  replied.  "But  when  I  come  to 
think  Cousin  Cornelia  over,  I'm  afraid  you're  right.  It  would 
be  fun  to  flirt  with  Robert,  and  frighten  her,  wouldn't  it  ?" 

"We  are  going  away  —  to  the  motor-boat  —  to-morrow, 
and  we  shall  never  see  him  again,"  said  Phil.  "Besides,  it's 
wrong  to  flirt,  even  with  foreigners;  and  now  do  let  me  say  my 
prayers." 


VII 

NEXT  morning,  when  I  waked  up,  and  cautiously 
drew  my  watch  from  under  the  pillow,  not  to  dis 
turb  Phyllis,  it  was  only  six  o'clock,  and  there  was 
Phil  gazing  at  me,  with  eyes  large  and  bright  in  the 
green  dusk  that  filtered  through  the  olive  curtains. 

"I've  been  awake  for  ages,"  said  she. 

"What  are  you  thinking  about  ?" 

"The  motor-boat.  Queer  —  but  I  can't  help  it." 

"Neither  can  I.  Can  you  go  to  sleep  again'?" 

"No.  Can  you  ?" 

"Not  I.  Let's  get  up,  and  creep  out  of  doors.  What  fun  to 
go  down  to  the  beach  and  take  a  bath ! " 

"Nell!  In  our  nighties?" 

"Silly!  We'll  hire  things  —  and  bathing-machines." 

After  mature  deliberation  Phil  decided  not  to  risk  being 
taken  for  a  thief  by  the  van  Buren  family;  but  I  could  not 
abandon  the  idea,  and  fifteen  minutes  later  I  was  softly  un 
locking  the  front  door,  to  steal  alone  into  the  pearly,  new-born 
day.  Oh,  the  wonder  of  it  —  the  wonder  of  each  new  day,  if 
one  only  stopped  to  think;  but  the  wonder  of  this  above  all 
others ! 

Already  there  were  a  few  people  about,  hurrying  beachward ; 
and  when  I  reached  the  level  of  the  firm,  yellow  sand,  there 
were  the  red-trousered  men  of  the  bathing-machines,  in  full 
activity,  getting  their  horses  into  the  traces,  while  dogs  raced 
wildly  over  sand-hillocks,  and  children  played  with  bright, 
sea- washed  shells  the  waves  had  flung  them. 

Two  or  three  of  the  bath-machines  were  in  use,  some  were 

72 


NELL   VAN   BUREN'S   POINT   OF   VIEW     73 

engaged  for  persons  not  yet  arrived,  and  I  thought  myself 
lucky  in  securing  one  drawn  by  the  handsomest  horse  of  all. 
The  others  were  dull,  blase-looking  creatures  compared  to 
him;  indeed,  he  was  far  too  fine  for  a  mere  bathing-machine, 
and  had  a  lovely  cushiony  back  like  the  animals  on  which 
beautiful  ladies  pirouet  in  circuses.  I  longed  to  try  it  myself, 
when  my  shoes  and  stockings  were  off. 

Just  as  I  had  got  into  the  prickly  blue  serge  costume  pro 
vided  by  the  "management,"  I  heard  the  sound  of  stirring 
military  music,  played  not  far  away  by  a  brass  band,  and 
something  queer  happened  at  the  same  moment.  The  machine 
began  to  rock  as  if  there  were  an  earthquake,  to  dart  forward, 
to  retreat,  and  at  last  to  go  galloping  ahead  at  a  speed  to 
suggest  that  in  a  sudden  fit  of  hallucination  it  had  persuaded 
itself  it  was  a  motor-car. 

"That  horse!"  I  gasped,  and  swaying  first  against  one  wall, 
then  against  the  other,  scarcely  able  to  keep  my  feet,  I  tore 
the  door  open  and  peeped  out. 

If  I  had  not  been  frightened  I  should  have  laughed,  for  it 
was  plain  to  see  from  the  expression  of  that  cushiony  back, 
that  the  animal  was  merely  pretending  to  be  afraid  of  the 
music,  in  a  kittenish  wish  for  a  little  early  morning  fun.  But 
he  was  also  pretending  in  quite  a  life-like  manner  to  run  away, 
and  the  thought  occurred  to  me  that  the  consequences  might 
be  as  awkward  for  the  occupant  of  the  machine  as  if  the  jest 
were  earnest. 

"Whoa,  whoa,"  cried  a  voice  in  pursuit,  and  splash!  went 
the  beast  into  the  surf.  He  was  playing  that  he  was  a  sea 
horse,  now,  and  enjoying  it  selfishly,  without  a  thought  of  poor 
me  in  the  horrid,  tottery  little  box  that  would  be  knocked  over 
by  a  big  wave,  maybe,  in  another  instant,  in  a  welter  of  sand 
and  salt  water,  under  a  merry  horse 's  hoofs. 

I  clung  to  the  door  with  one  hand,  and  the  frame  with 
the  other,  swinging  back  and  forth  on  the  threshold,  with 


74  THE   CHAPERON 

abnormally  large  iron  shoes  flying  up  and  down  in  the  wet 
green  foreground,  and  the  whole  North  Sea  towering  over 
me  in  the  middle  distance  —  oh,  but  a  very  near  middle 
distance ! 

I  wavered  in  mind  as  well  as  body.  If  I  didn't  jump  out  — 
now,  this  minute  —  I  might  be  caught  and  pinned  like  a 
mouse  in  a  trap,  under  the  water.  If  I  did  jump,  the  horse 
would  kick  me,  and  the  wheels  of  the  machine  would  go  over 
me,  and  I  should  be  battered  as  well  as  drowned  before  any 
body  could  fish  me  out.  I  did  feel  horribly  alone  in  the  world, 
and  the  waves  looked  as  tall  as  transparent  green  skyscrapers. 

"One,  two;  at  three  I'll  jump,"  I  was  saying  resolutely, 
between  chattering  teeth,  when  a  head  came  toward  me  in 
the  sea.  It  came  on  top  of  a  wave,  and  like  the  dear  little 
cut-off  cherubs  in  old-fashioned  prayer-books,  it  seemed  to 
have  no  body,  yet  I  recognized  it,  and  felt  half  inclined  to 
bow  (salutation,  O  Caesar,  from  one  about  to  die!)  only  it 
would  have  seemed  ridiculous  to  bow  to  a  mere  passing  head, 
when  one  was  on  the  eve  of  being  swept  away  by  the  North 
Sea.  Phyllis  might  have  done  it.  I  gave  a  short  shriek,  and 
then  it  appeared  that  the  head  had  full  control  of  the  wave, 
for  it  stopped  and  let  the  wave  rush  by,  to  show  that  it  had  a 
tall,  brown,  dripping  body,  sketchily  clad  in  the  kind  of  thing 
that  men  dare  to  call  a  bathing-suit. 

It  did  not  seem  strange  at  the  time  that  William  the  Silent 
should  be  shot  from  a  wave  as  if  by  a  catapult,  and  still  less 
strange  that  without  a  word  he  should  seize  my  horse  by  the 
head  and  stop  him.  It  seemed  the  sort  of  thing  that  ought 
to  happen  to  foreigners  traveling  in  Holland,  if  in  need  of 
succor. 

"Oh,  thank  you  so  much!"  I  heard  myself  saying,  just  as 
if  he  had  had  on  a  frock-coat  and  top-hat,  and  had  stopped  a 
hansom  cab  for  me  in  Bond  Street. 

"Not  at  all,"  I  heard  him  reply,  in  the  same  London-in- 


NELL  VAN  BUREN'S  POINT  OF  VIEW  75 
the-season  tone  Then  suddenly  I  thought  of  Stanley  in  the 
desert  saying,  "Dr.  Livingstone,  I  believe  ?"  and  my  bare  feet, 
and  his  dripping  hair,  and  the  whole  scene  struck  me  so 
quaintly  that  I  laughed  out  aloud ;  whereupon  he  smiled  a  wet, 
brown  smile,  showing  white  teeth. 

"I'm  not  having  hysterics,"  I  spluttered,  with  my  mouth  full 
of  spray.  "It's  only  —  only — "  and  the  spray  choked  me  with 
its  salt. 

"Of  course,"  said  William  the  Silent,  grave  again,  and  so 
like  the  portrait  that  I  felt  I  must  be  a  historical  character, 
acting  with  him  in  an  incident  forgotten  or  expurgated  by 
Motley.  "I'm  so  glad  I  came.  I  saw  you  from  further  out,  and 
thought  something  was  wrong.  But  it's  all  right  now." 

"Yes,  thank  you,"  I  said  meekly.  "Why,  you're  an  English 
man,  aren't  you  ?" 

"Dutch  to  the  backbone,"  he  answered;  and  then,  suddenly 
conscious,  perhaps,  that  the  (might  one  call  it  "feature"  ?)  he 
had  mentioned,  was  too  much  exposed  to  be  discussed  thus 
lightly,  he  changed  the  subject. 

"Here's  your  man,"  he  said  quickly,  and  forthwith  fell  to 
scolding  in  vehement  Dutch  the  unfortunate  wretch  who  had 
waded  to  the  rescue.  The  horse,  made  sadder  if  not  wiser  by 
blows  from  his  master,  allowed  himself  to  be  backed  for  a 
certain  distance,  until  it  was  safe  for  me  to  descend  and  take 
my  postponed  bath.  I  had  but  time  to  bow  and  murmur  more 
inane  thanks,  to  receive  another  bow  and  polite  murmur  in 
return  (both  murmurs  being  drowned  by  the  sea)  when  the 
retrograde  movement  of  the  bathing-machine  parted  me  and 
my  living  life-preserver.  He  stood  in  the  water  looking  after 
us  long  enough  to  see  that  there  would  be  no  further  incidents, 
then  took  a  header  into  the  waves  again. 

I'm  not  sure  that  my  adventure  did  not  add  spice  to  the 
salt  of  my  bath.  Anyhow,  it  was  glorious,  and  I  ran  back  to 
the  villa  at  last  tingling  with  joy  of  life,  in  time  to  be  let  in  by 


76  THE   CHAPERON 

a  maid  who  was  cleaning  the  door-steps.  It  was  half -past 
seven,  and  breakfast  was  at  eight.  I  had  to  make  haste  with 
my  toilet,  but  luckily  there  are  few  tasks  which  can't  be  accom 
panied  by  a  running  fire  of  chat  (that  is,  if  one  is  a  woman)  so 
I  had  told  everything  to  Phyllis  by  the  time  I  had  begun 
fastening  the  white  serge  frock  in  which  I  was  to  go  to  The 
Hague  and  the  Concours  Hippique.  Just  then  the  Japanese 
gong  sent  forth  its  melancholy  wail,  so  we  hurried  down,  and 
I  forgot  to  tell  Phyllis  not  to  mention  the  incident.  I  didn't 
think  it  the  kind  of  incident  which  would  be  approved  by  the 
van  Buren  family,  and  on  second  thoughts  I  didn't  approve  of 
it  myself. 

Hardly  were  we  comfortably  seated  at  the  table,  however, 
when  Phil  told  Robert  what  a  part  his  friend  had  played  in 
my  adventure.  I  could  not  stop  her,  and  when  I  was  called 
upon  for  details,  gave  them  rather  than  seem  to  be  secretive. 

"We  must  be  thankful  that  Brederode  was  taking  his  dip 
early,"  said  Robert.  "I  will  tell  him  this  afternoon  that  we  are 
very  grateful  for  what  he  did." 

I  blushed  consciously.  "Oh,  must  you  ?"  I  asked.  "Some 
how,  I've  an  idea  he'll  think  it  stupid  of  me  to  have  mentioned 
it.  Besides,  maybe  it  wasn't  your  friend.  Perhaps  it  was  some 
one  who  looked  like  him.  The  —  er  —  dress  was  so  different, 
and  I  had  hardly  seen  Mr.  Brederode  — 

"Jonkheer  Brederode,"  corrected  Freule  Menela,  softly. 

I  broke  out  laughing.  " JonkheeH  Oh,  do  forgive  me,  but  it 
sounds  so  funny.  I  really  never  could  call  a  person  Jonkheer, 
and  take  him  seriously." 

"You  will  have  to  call  him  Jonkheer  when  I  bring  him  to 
the  box,  after  he  has  finished  his  part  in  the  Concours  Hippi- 
que,"  said  Robert.  "There  is  no  one  who  looks  like  Rudolph 
Brederode,  so  it  must  have  been  he.  You  can  see  this  after 
noon." 

"But  I  don't  want  to  see,"  I  objected,  crossly,  for  I  felt  I 


NELL   VAN    BUREN'S    POINT    OF   VIEW      77 

could  not  solemnly  and  adequately  thank  the  young  man 
before  my  listening  relatives,  for  popping  out  of  the  sea  in  his 
microscopic  costume,  and  coming  to  the  rescue  of  me  in  mine. 
I  had  squeaked  and  curled  up  my  toes,  and  been  altogether 
ridiculous;  and  I  knew  we  should  at  best  burst  out  laughing 
in  each  other's  faces  —  which  would  astonish  the  van  Buren 
family. 

"Whoever  he  was,  I  thanked  him  three  times  this  morning, 
and  that's  enough,"  I  went  on.  "He  wasn't  risking  his  life, 
you  know,  and  really  and  truly,  I'd  rather  not  meet  him  for 
mally,  if  you  don't  mind." 

"Very  well,"  said  Cousin  Robert,  looking  offended,  and 
turning  his  attention  to  breakfast. 

It  was,  when  I  came  to  notice  it,  the  oddest  breakfast 
imaginable,  yet  it  had  a  tempting  air.  There  was  a  tiny  glass 
vase  of  flowers  at  each  person's  place,  and  the  middle  of  the 
table  was  occupied  by  a  china  hen  sitting  on  her  nest.  The 
eggs  which  she  protected  were  hard-boiled ;  and  ranged  round 
the  nest  were  platters  of  every  kind  of  cold  smoked  meat,  and 
cold  smoked  fish,  dreamed  of  in  the  philosophy  of  cooks. 
There  was  also  cold  ham;  and  there  were  crisp,  rich  little 
rusks,  and  gingerbread  in  Japanese  tin  boxes,  to  eat  with 
honey  in  an  open  glass  dish,  and  there  was  coffee  fit  for  gods 
and  goddesses.  Even  Phil  drank  it,  though  she  was  offered  tea, 
excusing  her  treachery  by  saying  that  she  found  her  tastes 
were  changing  to  suit  the  climate  of  Holland  —  a  dangerous 
theory,  since  who  can  tell  to  what  wild  lengths  it  may  lead  ? 

When  we  had  finished,  the  coffee-tray  was  taken  from  its 
place  in  front  of  Cousin  Cornelia,  and  another  tray,  bearing 
two  large  china  bowls  of  hot  water,  a  dish  with  soap,  a  toy  mop 
with  a  carved  wood  handle,  and  two  towels,  was  substituted 
for  it. 

"I  wash  the  fine  china  and  the  coffee-spoons  myself,  after 
breakfast, "  explained  Cousin  Cornelia,  slipping  off  her  rings, 


78  THE   CHAPERON 

and  beginning  her  pretty  task.  "The  best  of  servants  are  not 
as  careful  as  their  mistresses,  and  it  is  a  custom  in  Holland." 

"But  you  didn't  wash  the  coffee-  and  tea-cups  last  night 
after  dinner,"  I  reminded  her. 

"No,"  she  replied,  "I  never  do  that." 

"But  isn't  the  china  as  valuable,  and  isn't  there  as  much 
danger  of  it's  being  broken  ?" 

She  looked  puzzled,  almost  distressed.  "Yes,  that  is  true," 
she  admitted,  "but  —  it  is  not  a  custom.  I  don't  know  why, 
but  it  never  has  been." 

Her  housewifely  pleasure  was  spoiled  for  the  moment,  and 
I  wished  that  I  hadn't  spoken. 

After  all,  Lisbeth  and  Lilli  were  not  to  go  with  us  to  The 
Hague.  This  was  the  morning  for  opening  the  curio  cabinets 
in  the  drawing-room,  and  washing  the  contents,  and  the  girls 
were  expected  to  help  their  mother.  As  the  glass  doors  are 
never  opened,  unless  that  some  guest  may  carefully  handle  a 
gold  snuff-box,  a  miniature,  or  a  bit  of  old  Delft,  the  things 
could  scarcely  need  washing;  but  the  rule  is  to  have  them  out 
once  a  month,  and  it  would  be  a  crime  to  break  it.  This  Freule 
Menela  explained  in  a  low  voice,  and  with  the  suspicion  of  a 
smile,  as  if  she  wished  the  two  girls  from  London  to  under 
stand  that  she  was  able  to  see  the  humorous  side  of  these 
things. 

"Your  cousins  are  old-fashioned,"  she  went  on,  "though 
dear  people;  I've  known  them  since  I  was  a  child, -and  am 
fond  of  them  for  their  own  sakes  as  well  as  Robert's.  You 
must  not  think  that  everybody  in  our  country  dines  at  five. 
For  instance,  if  you  visited  in  my  set  at  The  Hague,  you  would 
find  things  more  as  they  are  in  France.  When  Robert  and  I 
are  married  I  shall  manage  the  house." 

We  listened  civilly,  but  liked  her  none  the  better  for  her 
disavowal  of  van  Buren  ways. 

"Horrid,  snobbish,  disloyal  little  wretch,"  said  Phil,  after- 


NELL   VAN   BUREN'S   POINT   OF   VIEW      79 

wards,  quite  viciously.  "Your  cousin's  a  hundred  times  too 
good  and  too  good-looking  for  her;  but  she  doesn't  know  that. 
She  fancies  herself  superior,  and  thinks  she's  condescending  to 
ally  herself  with  the  family.  I  do  believe  she's  marrying  your 
cousin  for  his  money,  and  if  she  could  get  a  chance  to  do 
better  according  to  her  ideas,  she'd  throw  him  over." 

"It  isn't  likely  she'll  ever  have  another  chance  of  any  sort," 
said  I;  "Robert  won't  get  rid  of  his  bargain  easily." 

"She's  going  with  us  this  morning,  and  makes  a  favor  of 
it,"  went  on  Phil.  "She  says  she's  tired  to  death  of  the  pictures; 
but  I'm  sure  ten  wild  horses  wouldn't  keep  her  at  home.'' 

Be  that  as  it  may,  the  power  of  twenty  wild  horses  in  motor 
form  rushed  her  away  in  our  society  and  that  of  her  fiance. 

In  the  beautiful  forest,  which  I  was  happy  in  seeing  again, 
we  threaded  intricate,  dark  avenues,  and  came  at  last  (as  if  we 
had  been  a  whole  party  of  tourist  princes  in  the  tale  of  the 
"Sleeping  Beauty")  to  the  House  in  the  Wood. 

The  romance  of  the  place  grew  in  my  eyes,  because  a 
princess  built  it  to  please  her  husband,  and  because  the 
husband  was  that  son  of  William  the  Silent  who  best  carried 
on  his  father's  plans  for  Holland's  greatness.  I'm  afraid  I 
cared  more  about  it  for  the  sake  of  Princess  Amalia  and 
Frederic  Henry  of  Orange,  than  for  the  sake  of  the  Peace 
Conference,  because  the  Conference  was  modern;  and  it  was 
of  the  princess  I  thought  as  we  passed  through  room  after 
room  of  the  charming  old  house,  hidden  in  the  very  heart  of 
the  forest.  Had  she  commanded  the  exquisite  Chinese  em 
broideries,  the  wonderful  decorations  from  China  and  Japan, 
and  the  lovely  old  china  ?  I  wouldn't  ask,  for  if  she  had  had 
nothing  to  do  with  that  part,  I  didn't  wish  to  know. 

In  the  octagonal  Orange  Salon  where  the  twenty-six  Powers 
met  to  make  peace,  and  where  the  walls  and  cupola  are  a  riot 
of  paintings  in  praise  of  Frederic  Henry  and  his  relations,  we 
strained  our  necks  to  see  the  pictures,  and  our  brains  to  recall 


80  THE   CHAPERON 

who  the  people  were  and  what  they  had  done;  but  even  the 
portrait  of  Motley,  which  we'd  just  passed,  and  the  knowledge 
that  he  wrote  in  this  very  house  did  not  always  prod  our 
memories. 

Robert  would  not  let  us  stay  long  at  the  House  in  the  Wood. 
He  took  us  to  see  the  site  of  the  Palace  of  Peace,  which  Mr. 
Carnegie's  money  and  a  little  of  other  people's  will  build,  and 
then  flashed  us  on  to  The  Hague  in  time  to  reach  the  Maurit- 
shuis  as  it  opened. 

Robert  didn't  pretend  to  know  much  about  the  pictures, 
though  he  was  patriotically  proud  of  them,  as  among  the  best 
to  be  found,  if  you  searched  the  world.  But  the  fiancee  was  in 
her  element.  "Tired  to  death''  of  these  splendid  things  she 
might  be,  in  her  small  soul,  but  she  was  determined  to  impress 
us  with  her  artistic  knowledge. 

"I  know  exactly  where  all  the  best  pictures  are,"  she  said, 
motioning  away  the  official  guides,  "and  I  will  take  you  to 
them." 

She  had  a  practical,  energetic  air,  and  her  black  eyes  were 
sharp  behind  her  pince-nez.  I  felt  I  could  not  be  introduced 
by  her  to  the  glorious  company  of  great  men,  and  basely  I 
slipped  away  from  the  party,  leaving  Phil  to  follow  with  out 
ward  humility  and  inward  rebellion  —  a  martyr  to  politeness. 

Oh,  how  glad  I  was  to  be  left  alone  with  the  pictures,  with 
nobody  to  tell  me  anything  about  them !  I  flew  back  to  buy 
a  catalogue,  and  then,  carefully  dodging  my  friends,  whose 
backs  I  spied  from  time  to  time,  I  gave  myself  up  to  happiness. 

I  didn't  want  to  see  the  Madonnas  and  nymphs  and  god 
desses,  and  Italian  scenes,  which  a  certain  school  conscien 
tiously  produced,  because  in  their  day  it  was  the  fashion.  I 
wanted  only  the  characteristically  Dutch  artists,  the  men  who 
loved  their  dear  Hollow  Land,  putting  her  beyond  all,  glorify 
ing  her,  and  painting  what  they  knew  with  their  hearts  as  well 
as  eyes  —  the  daily  life  of  home;  the  rich  brown  dusk  of 


NELL   VAN    BUREN'S   POINT   OF   VIEW      81 

humble  rooms;  the  sea,  the- sky,  the  gentle,  flat  landscape,  the 
pleasant  domestic  animals. 

My  acquaintance  with  Dutch  art  was  made  in  London  at 
the  National  Gallery;  now  I  wanted  to  see  it  at  home,  and 
understand  it  as  one  can  best  understand  it  here. 

I  soon  found  the  great  Rembrandt  — "the  School  of  Anat 
omy,"  and  stood  for  a  long  time  looking  at  the  wonderful 
faces  —  faces  in  whose  eyes  each  thought  lay  clear  to  read. 
What  a  picture!  A  man  who  had  done  nothing  else  all  his 
life  long  but  paint  just  that,  would  have  earned  the  right  to  be 
immortal;  but  to  have  been  only  twenty-six  when  he  did  it, 
and  then  to  have  gone  on,  through  year  after  year,  giving  the 
world  masterpieces,  and  to  be  repaid  by  that  world  in  the  end 
with  poverty  and  hardship!  My  cheeks  burned  as  I  stood 
thinking  of  it,  and  somehow  I  felt  guilty  and  responsible,  as  if 
I'd  lived  in  Rembrandt's  day,  and  been  as  ungrateful  as  the 
others. 

I  had  expected  to  be  disappointed  in  Paul  Potter's  "Bull," 
because  people  always  speak  of  it  at  once,  if  they  hear  you 
are  going  to  Holland;  but  if  you  could  be  disappointed  in 
that  young  and  winning  beast  who  kindly  stands  there  with 
diamonds  in  his  great  velvet  eyes,  and  the  breath  coming  and 
going  under  his  rough,  wholesome  coat  for  you  to  look  at  and 
admire,  when  all  the  time  you  know  that  he  could  kill  you  if 
he  liked,  why,  you  would  deserve  to  be  gored  by  him  and 
trodden  by  his  companions. 

How  I  wanted  to  have  known  Jan  van  Steen,  and  thanked 
him  for  his  glorious,  rollicking,  extraordinary  pictures  (especi 
ally  for  "The  Poultry  Yard"),  and  have  slyly  stolen  his  bottle 
away  from  him  sometimes,  so  that  he  might  have  painted  even 
more,  and  not  have  come  to  ruin  in  the  end !  How  I  loved 
the  gentle  Van  Ruysdaels,  and  how  pathetic  the  everlasting 
white  horse  got  to  seem,  after  I  had  seen  him  repeated  again 
and  again  in  every  sort  of  tender  or  eccentric  landscape !  Poor, 


82  THE   CHAPERON 

tired  white  horse!  I  thought  he  must  have  been  as  weary  oi 
his  journeyings  as  the  Wandering  Jew. 

There  are  two  Rubens  in  the  Mauritshuis  which  intoxicated 
me,  as  if  I'd  been  drinking  new  red  wine;  and  there  is  one 
little  Gerard  Douw,  above  all  other  Gerard  Douws,  worth  a 
three-days'  journey  on  foot  to  see.  In  a  window  of  the  Bull's 
room  I  found  it;  and  I  stood  so  long  staring,  that  at  last  I 
began  to  be  afraid  the  others  might  have  gone  away.  They 
came  upon  me,  though,  all  too  soon,  and  exclaimed,  "Why, 
where  have  you  been  ?"  and  "We've  been  looking  for  you 
everywhere."  I  said  I  was  sorry,  and  wondered  how  I  had 
been  so  stupid  as  to  miss  them.  Then  we  were  marshalled 
away  by  Robert  for  luncheon,  as  we'd  been  three  hours  in  the 
Mauritshuis,  and  before  long  we  must  be  driving  to  the  Con- 
cours  Hippique. 

Only  three  hours  in  some  of  the  best  society  on  earth,  and 
I  shall  be  expected  to  tell  about  my  impressions  when  I  go 
back  to  England !  I  know  well  that  I  can  tell  nothing  worth 
telling;  and  yet,  even  in  this  short  time,  I  feel  that  I  under 
stand  more  about  Holland  and  the  Hollanders  than  I  could 
have  come  to  understand,  except  through  their  pictures  — 
more  even  than  Motley  could  have  told  me. 

I  said  to  myself  as  I  went  away  from  the  galleries,  that 
Dutch  painting  would  stand  for  me  henceforth  as  an  epitome 
of  the  Dutch  people.  No  one  but  the  Dutch  could  have  painted 
pictures  like  theirs  —  so  quaint,  so  painstaking,  and  at  the 
same  time  so  splendid.  Their  love  of  rich  brown  shadow  and 
amber  light  was  learned  in  the  dim  little  rooms  of  their  own 
homes,  and  of  inns  where  the  brass  and  pewter  gleamed  in 
the  mellow  dusk  of  raftered  kitchens,  and  piles  of  fruit  and 
vegetables  fell  like  jewels,  from  paniers  such  as  Gerard  Douw 
took  three  days  to  paint  on  a  scale  of  three  inches. 

We  had  a  hasty  luncheon  at  a  nice  hotel  with  an  air  of 
Parisian  gaiety  about  it,  and  sped  away  in  the  motor  to  the 


NELL   VAN   BUREN'S   POINT   OF   VIEW      83 

Horse  Show,  which  was  to  be  held  in  a  park  between  The 
Hague  and  Scheveningen.  It  was  advertised  on  every  wall 
and  hoarding,  even  on  lamp-posts,  and  Freule  Menela 
(gorgeous  in  a  Paris  frock  and  tilted  hat)  prophesied  that, 
as  the  Queen  and  Prince  Consort  were  honoring  the  occasion, 
we  should  see  the  loveliest  women,  handsomest  men,  and 
prettiest  dresses,  as  well  as  the  best  horses  that  Holland  could 
produce. 

"When  I  say  Holland,  I  mean  The  Hague;  it  is  the  same 
thing,"  she  added,  with  a  conceited  toss  of  the  chin;  and  I 
thought  she  deserved  shaking  for  her  sly  dig  at  Robert  of 
Rotterdam,  than  whom  there  can  be  no  handsomer  young 
man  in  the  Netherlands. 

Cousin  Cornelia  in  filmy  gray,  and  the  twins  radiant  as 
fresh-plucked  roses  in  their  white  frocks  and  Leghorn  hats, 
had  arrived,  and  were  in  one  of  the  many  long,  open  loggias 
close  to  the  red-and-gold  pavilion  which  was  ready  for  the 
Royalties. 

*/ 

Over  the  pavilion,  with  its  gilded  crown  and  crest,  floated 
the  orange  flag  as  well  as  the  tricolor  of  Holland;  everywhere 
flags  were  waving  and  red  bunting  glowing,  and  there  was  far 
more  effect  of  color  than  at  an  English  race-meeting.  Every 
box,  every  seat,  was  full;  pretty  hats  nodded  like  flowers  in 
a  huge  parterre  swept  by  a  breeze;  smart-looking  men  with 
women  in  trailing  white  walked  about  the  lawns;  and  Robert 
and  Menela  pointed  out  the  celebrities  —  ambassadors  and 
ambassadors'  wives,  politicians,  popular  actresses,  celebrated 
journalists,  men  of  title  or  wealth  who  owned  horses  and  gave 
their  lives  to  sport. 

All  the  men  of  the  haut  mond  were  in  frock-coats  and  tall 
hats,  and  most  of  them  looked  English.  There  were  few  of 
the  type  which  I  preconceived  as  Dutch,  yet  I  saw  faces  in 
the  crowd  which  Rembrandt  or  Rubens  might  have  used  as 
models;  thin,  dark  faces;  hard,  shrewd  faces,  with  long  noses 


84  THE   CHAPERON 

and  pointed  chins;  good-natured  round  faces,  with  wide-open 
gray  eyes;  important,  conceited  faces  like  the  burgomasters  in 
ancient  portraits. 

"Not  a  type  has  changed,"  I  said  to  myself.  "These  people 
of  to-day  are  the  same  people  who  suffered  torture  smiling, 
who  were  silent  on  the  rack,  who  drove  the  Spaniards  out  of 
their  land,  and  swept  the  English  from  the  seas." 

This  was  my  mood  when  a  stir  among  the  throng  heralded 
the  coming  of  the  Queen,  and  I  applauded  as  patriotically  as 
a  Dutchwoman  the  young  daughter  of  the  brave  house  of 
Orange  and  Nassau. 

She  had  a  fine  procession,  and  made  an  effective  entrance 
through  the  wide  gates  that  swung  apart  to  let  in  her  outriders 
in  their  green  livery,  and  the  royal  coaches,  with  powdered 
coachmen  and  footmen  in  blazing  red  and  gold.  A  charming 
young  woman  she  looked,  too,  in  her  blowing  white  cloud  of 
chiffon  and  lace,  and  ostrich-plumes.  While  she  circled  round 
the  drive  with  her  suite,  I  heard  the  Dutch  National  Hymn 
for  the  first  time,  and  also  a  soft  and  plaintive  air  which  is  the 
Queen's  own  —  a  kind  of  "entrance  music"  which  follows  her 
about  through  life,  like  the  music  for  a  leading  actress  on  the 
stage. 

When  the  Queen  in  her  white  dress,  the  stout,  bland  Prince 
Consort  in  his  blue  uniform,  and  the  ladies  of  the  Court  were 
settled  under  the  crimson  curtains  of  the  pavilion,  officers  who 
were  competing  in  the  Horse  Show  —  Hollanders  in  green  and 
cerise,  and  plain  blue;  Belgians  in  blue  and  red;  two  or  three 
Danes  in  delicious  azure  —  were  brought  up  with  much  cere 
mony  to  be  introduced. 

"There  goes  Rudolph  Brederode,"  said  Robert,  a  light  of 
friendly  admiration  kindling  in  his  eyes  for  a  tall,  slim  figure 
in  black  coat  and  riding-breeches.  "See,  her  Majesty  is  wish 
ing  him  good  luck.  He  — "  But  my  cousin  glanced  at  me, 
and  remembering  my  base  ingratitude,  decided  that  I  deserved 


NELL   VAN   BUREN'S   POINT   OF   VIEW      85 

no  further  information  about  his  hero,  who  ought  to  be  my 
hero  too. 

I  pretended  not  to  hear,  and  watched  the  show  of  beautiful 
horses  and  carriages.  They  went  round  and  round  the  great 
grassy  ring,  each  driver  (and  some  of  them  were  English) 
taking  off  their  top-hats  in  front  of  the  Royal  Pavilion. 

There  was  a  good  deal  of  this  kind  of  entertainment,  but 
the  best  part  of  the  show  was  saved  for  the  last,  when  all  the 
glittering  carriages  had  disappeared  from  the  course.  Then 
came  the  jumping  competition,  in  which  the  finest  riders, 
officers  and  civilians,  were  to  prove  what  they  and  their  horses 
could  do. 

The  crowd  had  wearied  of  the  long  driving  contests,  but  as 
the  Dutch  soldiers  ran  out  across  the  grass  to  take  their  places 
beside  the  hedges,  hurdles,  water-jumps,  and  obstacles,  there 
was  a  general  brisking  up. 

Then  began  the  real  excitement  of  the  afternoon.  People 
greeted  their  favorites  with  applause,  and  Cousin  Robert's 
hero  had  the  largest  share.  He  made  a  splendid  figure  on  his 
delicately  shaped  roan,  a  creature  all  verve  and  muscle  like 
his  master,  graceful  as  a  cat,  and  shining  in  the  sun  with  the 
rich  effulgence  of  a  chestnut  fresh  from  the  burr. 

I  couldn't  help  a  jumping  of  the  pulses  when  the  bell  rang, 
and  the  good-looking  young  men  on  their  grand  horses  can 
tered  into  the  ring.  Rudolph  Brederode  was  the  last,  and  his 
horse  came  in  on  its  hind  legs,  pawing  and  prancing  with 
sheer  joy  of  life  and  its  own  beauty;  yet  what  a  different  beast 
from  that  other  who  had  also  pirouetted  to  the  sound  of  music 
in  the  morning !  I  wondered  if  William  the  Silent  thought  — 
but  of  course  he  didn't. 

One  by  one  the  horses  started,  urged  on  or  held  back  by 
their  riders.  All  rode  well,  but  not  one  got  round  the  course 
without  a  fault  —  a  jump  short  at  a  ditch;  a  hind  hoof  that 
brushed  a  hedge;  the  ring  of  an  iron  shoe  on  a  hurdle;  or  a 


86  THE   CHAPERON 

wooden  brick  sent  flying  from  the  top  row  on  a  high  wall ;  not 
one,  until  Rudolph  Brederode's  turn  came. 

At  the  last  moment,  a  pat  of  his  hand  on  his  horse's  satin 
shoulder  quieted  the  splendid  creature's  nerves.  Instantly  it 
was  calm,  and  coming  down  from  fun  to  business,  started  off 
at  the  daintest  of  canters,  which  broke  at  exactly  the  right 
second  into  a  noble  bound.  Without  a  visible  effort  the 
adorable  beast  rose  for  each  obstacle,  floating  across  hedges 
and  walls  as  if  it  had  been  borne  by  the  wings  of  Pegasus. 
The  last,  widest  water-jump  was  taken  with  one  long,  flying 
leap;  and  then,  doffing  his  hat  low  to  the  Royal  Box,  the  con 
queror  rode  away  in  a  storm  of  applause. 

"It's  always  like  that.  Brederode  never  fails  in  anything 
he  undertakes,"  said  Robert,  as  happy  as  if  he,  and  not  his 
friend,  had  been  the  victor.  "I'm  off  to  congratulate  him  now." 

Two  minutes  later  I  saw  the  hero  among  the  crowd,  his 
head  towering  above  most  other  heads;  then  I  lost  sight  of 
him,  and  turned  again  to  watch  the  course,  for  the  riding  was 
not  nearly  finished  yet.  But  with  the  triumph  of  the  great 
Water  Beggar's  descendant,  the  best  was  over.  No  one  else 
did  as  well  as  he,  or  had  as  fine  a  horse,  and  I  found  myself 
looking  for  him  and  Robert.  Maybe  Robert  would  bring  him 
to  the  box  in  spite  of  all.  It  was  a  pity  the  others  should  be 
cheated  of  a  word  with  him  —  which  even  the  twins  seemed  to 
hope  for  —  just  because  Robert  had  to  punish  me. 

But  he  did  not  come,  nor  did  Robert  until  after  the  Royal 
ties  had  gone,  and  Cousin  Cornelia  was  ready  to  go  too. 


RUDOLPH  BREDERODE'S  POINT  OF  VIEW 
VIII 

I  DON'T  often  do  things  that  I  have  set  my  mind  against 
doing,  but  when  Destiny  lays  a  hand  on  one's  steering- 
gear,  unexpected  things  happen. 

My  idea  has  always  been  that,  when  my  time  came 
to  fall  seriously  in  love,  the  girl  would  be  a  Dutch  girl.  I  like 
and  respect  Dutch  girls.  When  you  want  them,  there  they  are. 
There's  no  nonsense  in  them  —  at  least,  as  little  as  possible, 
considering  that  they  are  females.  They  don't  fuss  about 
their  temperaments,  and  imagine  themselves  Mysteries,  and 
Chameleons,  and  Anomalies,  and  make  themselves  and  their 
lovers  miserable  by  trying  to  be  inscrutable.  You  can  generally 
tell  pretty  well  what  they  are  going  to  do  next,  and  if  you  don't 
want  them  to,  you  can  prevent  them  from  doing  it.  Also  they 
have  good  nerves  and  good  complexions,  and  for  these  reasons, 
and  many  others,  make  perfect  wives  for  men  with  family  tradi 
tions  to  keep  up.  That  is  why  I  always  intended  to  fall  seriously 
in  love  with  a  Dutch  girl,  although  my  mother  was  an  Eng 
lishwoman,  and  her  father  (an  English  earl  who  thought  Eng 
land  the  only  land)  made  an  American  heiress  his  Countess. 

More  than  once  I've  come  near  to  carrying  out  my  in 
tention,  but  the  feeling  I  had,  never  seemed  the  right  feeling, 
so  I  let  the  matter  drop,  and  waited  for  next  time. 

A  few  days  ago,  I  found  out  that  there  would  never  be 
a  next  time.  I  knew  this  when  Rob  van  Buren  spoke  of  the 
two  girls  who  were  with  him  at  the  Prinzenhof  on  July  tenth 
as  his  "American  cousin  and  an  English  friend." 

87 


88  THE   CHAPERON 

I  can  never  fall  in  love  with  a  Dutch  girl  now,  for  I  have 
done  the  thing  I  did  not  mean  to  do,  and  it  can't  be  undone 
in  this  world.  Once  and  for  all,  that  is  settled,  however  it 
may  go  with  me  where  the  girl  is  concerned.  But  it  will  go 
hard  if  I  do  not  have  her  in  the  end,  and  I  shall  if  she  is  to 
be  got;  for  the  men  of  my  blood  soon  make  up  their  minds 
when  they  want  a  thing,  and  they  do  not  rest  much  until  it's 
theirs.  This  peculiarity  has  often  landed  them  in  trouble  in 
past  times,  and  may  land  me  in  trouble  now;  but  I'm  ready 
for  the  risk,  as  they  were. 

I  didn't  know  at  first  which  was  the  English  girl  —  my  girl 
with  the  chestnut  hair,  dark  hazel  eyes,  and  rose  and  white 
complexion;  or  the  other  girl  with  brown  hair,  eyes  of  violet, 
and  skin  of  cream.  But  when  I  encountered  my  girl  in  the 
sea  at  half-past  six  in  the  morning,  unchaperoned  except  by 
a  foolish  runaway  horse  attached  to  a  bathing-machine,  I 
should  have  guessed  that  she  was  the  American,  even  if  there 
had  been  nothing  in  her  pretty  voice  to  suggest  it. 

I  am  sorry  that  it  couldn't  have  been  the  other  way  round, 
for  my  English  mother's  sake,  since  my  fate  isn't  to  be  Dutch. 
But  it  can't  be  helped.  I  have  seen  The  One  Girl,  and  it 
would  be  the  same  if  she  were  a  Red  Indian. 

I  was  going  to  lead  up  to  the  subject  when  van  Buren 
came  to  speak  to  me  at  the  Horse  Show;  but  he  began  it,  by 
thanking  me,  in  the  grave  way  he  has,  for  coming  to  his 
cousin's  rescue  in  the  morning.  I  shouldn't  have  referred  to 
that  little  business,  as  she  might  not  have  mentioned  her 
adventure;  but  as  she  had  told  the  story,  it  gave  me  a  founda 
tion  to  work  on. 

I  said  truly  that  what  I  had  done  was  nothing,  but  hinted 
that  I  should  be  pleased  to  meet  the  young  lady  again ;  and 
thereupon  expected  an  invitation  to  visit  his  mother's  box. 
To  my  surprise,  it  didn't  come,  and  Robert's  face  showed  that 
there  was  a  reason  why. 


RUDOLPH  BREDERODE'S  POINT  OF  VIEW      89 

"My  cousin  doesn't  deserve  that  you  should  take  an  interest 
in  her,"  he  blurted  out.  "She  is  pretty,  yes,  and  perhaps  that 
is  why  she  is  so  spoiled,  for  she  is  vain  and  capricious  and 
flippant.  I  wish  it  were  Miss  Rivers  who  had  our  blood  in  her 
veins. " 

Queer ly  enough,  instead  of  cooling  me  off  toward  the  girl, 
Robert's  criticism  of  her  had  the  opposite  effect.  I  have  liked 
Robert  since  I  took  him  under  my  wing  during  my  last  and 
his  first  year  at  Leiden.  Perhaps  it  tickles  my  vanity  to  know 
that  he  has  been  boyish  enough  to  make  me  into  a  kind  of 
hero,  little  though  I  deserve  it,  and  whenever  I  have  been  able 
to  do  him  a  good  turn  I  have  done  it ;  but  suddenly  I  found 
myself  thinking  him  a  young  brute,  and  feeling  that  he  de 
served  kicking. 

"I  suppose  Miss  Van  Buren  hasn't  paid  enough  attention 
to  your  High  Mightiness,"  said  I. 

"She  hasn't  put  herself  out  much,"  said  he;  "but  it  isn't 
that  I  care  about,  it's  her  attitude  toward  you.  Of  course  you 
couldn't  help  hearing  what  she  said  yesterday  at  the  Prinzen- 
hof  about  the  portrait  of  William  the  Silent.  Because  I  asked 
her  afterwards  if  she  didn't  think  it  looked  like  you,  she  said 
not  a  bit;  anyhow  she  had  only  been  joking,  and  it  was  an 
ugly  portrait.  Then,  this  morning  at  breakfast,  when  I  heard 
what  happened  on  the  beach,  I  told  her  that  perhaps  she 
would  have  the  chance  this  afternoon  to  thank  you.  Instead  of 
being  pleased,  she  answered  that  she'd  thanked  you  enough  al 
ready,  that  you  had  run  no  risk,  as  what  you  did  was  nothing 
much,  after  all,  and  she  hoped  I  wouldn't  bring  you.  I  tell  you, 
Brederode,  I  could  have  boxed  her  ears." 

I  must  confess  that  mine  tingled,  and  for  a  moment  I  felt 
hurt  and  angry  with  the  girl,  but  it  was  only  for  a  moment. 
Then  I  laughed. 

"Served  you  right  for  forcing  me  upon  her,"  said  I.  "Well, 
it's  evident  she's  taken  a  dislike  to  me.  It  must  be  my  business 


90  THE   CHAPERON 

to  change  that,  for  I  have  exactly  the  opposite  feelings  toward 
her.  Some  day  I  shall  make  her  like  me. " 

"I  wonder  you  can  think  it  worth  while  to  trouble  your 
head  over  my  cousin,  after  what  I've  felt  it  right  to  tell  you," 
said  Robert.  "I  thought  you  ought  to  know,  otherwise  you 
would  have  considered  it  strange  I  didn't  ask  you  to  our  box, 
as  I  should  have  been  proud  to  do ;  but  I  was  angry  for  your 
sake,  and  said  I  wouldn't  bring  you  near  her.  Now,  as  things 
are,  I  don't  see  how  you  can  meet  my  cousin.  The  van  Buren 
blood  is  at  its  worst  in  her,  and  it  has  made  her  obstinate  as 
a  pig." 

"Heavens,  what  a  simile !"  said  I;  yet  I  couldn't  help  laugh 
ing.  "I,  too,  am  obstinate  as  a  pig;  and  being  proud  of  my 
Dutch  blood,  I  like  her  the  better  for  hers,  all  the  more  be 
cause  it's  obstinate  blood,  and  it  wouldn't  be  true  Dutch  if 
it  were  not.  I  tell  you,  Robert,  I'm  going  to  know  your  cousin 
-  not  through  you ;  I  don't  want  that  now,  but  in  some  other 
way,  which  will  arrange  itself  sooner  or  later  —  probably 
sooner. " 

"I  don't  see  how,"  Robert  repeated.  "I  was  in  hopes  that 
she  and  Miss  Rivers,  her  stepsister,  could  have  been  persuaded 
by  my  mother  to  pay  us  a  long  visit,  and  give  up  an  objection 
able  plan  they  have.  But  Cousin  Helen — Nell,  as  Miss  Rivers 
calls  her  —  has  been  pig-headed  even  with  my  mother.  I  am 
sure  it  is  not  Miss  Rivers's  fault  She  is  not  that  kind  of  girl. " 

"Do  you  mind  telling  me  the  objectionable  plan  ?"  I  asked. 

"I  shall  be  glad  to  tell,"  said  he,  "and  see  if  you  don't  agree 
with  me  that  it  is  monstrous,  though,  strange  to  say,  now 
mother  has  talked  with  the  girls,  she  does  not  seem  to  think 
it  as  bad  as  she  was  inclined  to  at  first.  She  tells  me  that  they 
are  determined  to  persist,  and  she  thinks  they  will  come  to  no 
harm.  My  cousin  has  been  left  a  motor-boat  by  a  friend's  will. 
You  must  have  seen  it :  Captain  Noble's  '  Lorelei,'  which  used 
to  lie  near  the  Rowing  Club.  She  and  Miss  Rivers  have  come 


RUDOLPH  BREDERODE'S  POINT  OF  VIEW     91 

to  take  a  trip  through  the  waterways  of  Holland,  though  my 
mother  has  learned  that  their  financial  circumstances  hardly 
warrant  such  an  undertaking. " 

"Plucky  girls !"  was  my  comment. 

"Ah,  but  you  don't  know  all.  A  young  man  is  going  with 
them,  a  strange  American  young  man,  whom  they  never  saw 
till  yesterday." 

"By  Jove!  In  what  capacity  —  as  chauffeur?" 

"Not  at  all.  As  a  sort  of  paying  guest,  so  far  as  I  can  under 
stand  the  arrangement. " 

"It  sounds  rather  an  odd  one." 

"I  should  say  so;  but  I  mustn't  make  you  think  it's  worse 
than  it  is.  There  was  a  misunderstanding  about  the  boat. 
The  American  thought  he'd  hired  it  from  the  caretaker,  and 
they  were  sorry  for  his  disappointment.  He  has  an  aunt,  a 
Scotswoman  of  title,  who  is  to  be  of  the  party." 

"That  makes  all  the  difference,  doesn't  it  ?  —  not  the  title, 
but  the  aunt." 

"It  makes  a  difference,  certainly;  but  the  man  may  be  an 
adventurer.  He's  an  artist,  it  appears,  named  Starr  — 

"What,  the  Starr  whose  Salon  picture  made  so  much  talk  in 
Paris  this  spring  ?" 

"Yes;  but  being  a  good  artist  doesn't  constitute  him  a  good 
man.  He  might  make  love  to  the  girls." 

"Beast!  So  he  might,  aunt  or  no  aunt.  She'll  probably  aid 
and  abet  him.  I  don't  know  that  I  blame  you  for  objecting  to 
such  an  adventure  for  your  cousin." 

"Oh,  it  isn't  so  much  for  her  —  that  is,  except  on  principle. 
But  I've  done  all  I  can,  and  my  mother  has  done  all  she  can, 
so  you  can  imagine  what  my  cousin's  pig-headedness  is  like  to 
resist  us  both.  My  mother  tells  me  she  could  do  nothing  with 
her;  and  the  girls  are  leaving  us  to-morrow.  They  go  back  to 
Rotterdam,  where  they  expect  to  find  Starr's  aunt,  and,  they 
hope,  a  skipper  for  the  motor-boat.  Cousin  Helen  asked  if  I 


92  THE   CHAPERON 

could  recommend  a  suitable  man;  but  even  if  I  knew  one,  I 
should  not  make  it  easier  for  her  to  flout  the  wishes  of  the 
family." 

"Naturally  not,"  said  I,  with  the  sort  of  fellow-feeling  for 
Robert  which  makes  one  wondrous  kind.  And  I  was  sure  that 
if  I  were  Miss  Van  Buren's  cousin,  and  had  set  myself  against 
her  doing  a  certain  thing,  she  would  not  have  done  it. 

"However,  they  are  returning  to  Rotterdam  early  in  the 
morning,  and  that  being  the  case,  as  I  was  saying,  I  don't  see 
how  it  will  be  possible  for  you  to  meet  my  cousin." 

"I  bet  that  I  will  meet  her,  and  be  properly  introduced, 
too,  before  either  of  us  is  a  week  older,"  said  I,  and  then  was 
sorry  I  had  clothed  my  resolve  in  such  crude  words.  But  it 
was  too  late  to  explain  or  apologize,  for  at  that  instant  two  or 
three  men  came  up.  The  thought  of  what  I  had  blurted  out 
lay  heavy  on  my  mind  afterwards,  and  if  it  had  not  seemed  a 
far-fetched  and  even  school-missish  thing  to  do,  I  would  have 
sent  a  line  to  Robert  asking  him  to  erase  that  clumsy  and 
impertinent  boast  from  his  memory.  If  he  is  stupid  enough 
or  awkward  enough  to  repeat  anything  of  our  conversation, 
and  give  Miss  Van  Buren  the  impression  that  I  tried  to  make 
a  wager  concerning  her,  it  will  be  all  up  with  me,  I  know. 

As  it  is,  I  can  only  hope  that  my  words  will  go  out  at  one 
ear  as  fast  as  they  went  in  at  the  other. 

Next  morning  I  had  made  no  definite  plan  of  action,  but 
thought  that  as  Miss  Van  Buren  was  going  to  Rotterdam,  it 
could  do  no  harm  for  me  to  go  to  Rotterdam  too,  and  see 
what  would  happen  next.  Things  of  some  sort  were  bound  to 
happen,  and  one  way  or  other  my  chance  might  come  before 
she  started  on  her  journey. 

My  mother  is  at  Chateau  Liliendaal,  the  place  where  she 
likes  best  to  spend  July  and  August  when  we  don't  run  over  to 
England ;  but  she  didn't  expect  me  to  join  her  for  some  days, 
and  meanwhile  I  was  free  to  do  as  I  chose. 


RUDOLPH  BREDERODE'S  POINT  OF  VIEW     93 

I  was  in  hopes  that  I  might  see  Miss  Van  Buren  in  the 
train,  if  I  took  the  most  popular  one  in  the  morning;  but  she 
and  her  stepsister  were  not  on  board,  so  I  fancied  Robert 
must  be  driving  them  back  in  the  borrowed  car,  despite  his 
objections  to  their  proceedings. 

I  went  straight  to  the  Rowing  Club,  where  I  have  several 
friends,  and  as  I  knew  from  Robert  that  the  motor-boat  was 
*  Lorelei '  I  easily  found  out  where  she  was  lying.  The  next 
thing  was  to  go  and  have  a  look  at  her,  to  see  if  preparations 
were  being  made  for  an  immediate  start. 

I  had  forgotten  what  she  was  like,  but  I  found  her  a  hand 
some  little  craft,  with  two  cabins,  and  deck-room  to  accom 
modate  four  or  five  passengers;  also  I  learned  from  a  man  em 
ployed  on  the  quay  close  by  that  the  motor  was  an  American 
one  of  thirty  horse-power.  He  told  me  as  well,  by  way  of  gos 
sip,  that  a  rakish  barge,  moored  with  her  pert  brass  nose  al 
most  on  "Lorelei's"  stern,  had  been  hired,  and  would  be  towed 
by  the  owners  of  the  motor-boat. 

I  didn't  know  what  to  make  of  this  bit  of  information,  as 
Robert  had  not  mentioned  a  barge;  but  the  skylight  meant  a 
studio,  so  I  saw  the  man  Starr's  hand  in  the  arrangement,  and 
began  to  hate  the  fellow. 

By  the  time  I  had  loitered  in  the  neighborhood  for  half 
an  hour  or  more,  it  was  noon,  and  it  occurred  to  me  that  I 
might  go  and  lunch  at  Miss  Van  Buren's  hotel.  But  this  would 
look  like  dogging  the  girl's  footsteps,  and  eventually  I  decided 
upon  a  more  subtle  means  of  gaining  my  end. 

Nevertheless,  I  strolled  past  the  house;  but,  seeing  nobody 
worth  seeing,  I  reluctantly  turned  my  steps  farther  on  to  a 
garden  restaurant  —  a  middle-class  place,  with  tables  under 
chestnuts  and  beeches  or  in  shady  arbors  for  parties  of  two 
or  four. 

It  was  early  still,  but  the  restaurant  is  popular,  and  all  the 
small  tables  under  the  trees  were  appropriated.  Fortunately, 


94  THE   CHAPERON 

several  arbors  were  empty,  although  one  or  two  were  engaged, 
and  I  walked  into  the  first  I  came  to. 

For  a  few  moments  I  was  kept  waiting,  then  a  fluent 
waiter  appeared  to  recommend  the  most  desirable  dishes  of 
the  day.  His  eloquence  was  in  full  tide,  when  a  man  paused 
before  the  entrance  of  my  arbor,  hesitated,  and  went  on  to 
the  next. 

"That  is  engaged,  sir,"  called  out  the  waiter. 

"I  don't  understand  Dutch,"  answered  the  new-comer  in 
American-English.  "Can  you  speak  French  ?" 

The  waiter  could,  and  did.  The  man  —  a  good-looking  fel 
low,  with  singularly  brilliant  black  eyes  and  a  fetching  smile 
—  explained  that  it  was  he  who  had  engaged  the  arbor,  that 
he  was  expecting  a  lady,  and  would  not  order  luncheon  until 
she  joined  him. 

He  sat  down  with  his  gray  flannel  back  to  me,  but  I  could 
see  him  through  the  screen  of  leaves  and  lattice,  and  it  was 
clear  that  he  was  nervous.  He  kept  jumping  up,  going  to  the 
doorway,  staring  out,  and  returning  to  throw  himself  on  the 
hard  green  bench  with  an  impatient  sigh.  Evidently  She  was 
late. 

An  omelet  arrived  for  me,  and  still  my  neighbor  was  alone ; 
but  I  had  scarcely  taken  up  my  fork  when  a  light,  tripping 
step  sounded  crisply  on  the  crushed  sea-shells  of  the  path 
outside.  A  shadow  darkened  the  doorway,  and  for  an  instant 
a  pocket-edition  of  a  woman,  in  a  neat  but  well-worn  tailor- 
made  dress,  hung  on  my  threshold.  Rather  like  a  trim  gray 
sparrow  she  was,  expecting  a  crumb,  then  changing  her  mmd 
and  hopping  further  on  to  find  it. 

But  the  change  of  mind  came  only  with  the  springing  up  of 
the  young  man  in  the  adjoining  arbor. 

"Aunt  Fay,  is  that  you  ?"  he  inquired,  in  an  anxious  voice, 
speaking  the  name  with  marked  emphasis. 

"Oh!"  chirped  the  gray  sparrow,  flitting  to  the  next  door- 


RUDOLPH  BREDERODE'S  POINT  OF  VIEW     95 

way,  "I  must  have  counted  wrong.  I  saw  a  young  man  alone, 
and  —  Then  you  are  my  nephew  —  Ronald. " 

She  also  threw  stress  upon  the  name  and  the  relationship, 
and,  though  I  knew  nothing  of  the  face  that  lurked  behind  a 
tissue  veil,  I  became  aware  that  the  lady  was  an  American. 

"Funny  thing,"  I  said  to  myself.  "They  don't  seem  to 
have  met  before.  She  must  be  a  long-lost  aunt. " 

My  neighbor  would  have  ushered  his  relative  into  the  ar 
bor,  but  she  lingered  outside. 

"Come,  Tibe,"  she  cried,  with  a  shrill  change  of  tone. 
"Here,  Tibe,  Tibe,  Tibe!" 

There  was  a  sudden  stir  in  the  garden,  a  pulling  of  chairs 
closer  to  small  tables,  a  jumping  about  of  waiters,  a  few  stifled 
shrieks  in  feminine  voices,  and  a  powerful  tan-colored  bull 
dog,  with  a  peculiarly  concentrated  and  earnest  expression 
on  his  countenance,  bounded  through  the  crowd  toward  his 
mistress,  with  a  fine  disregard  of  obstacles.  Evidently,  if 
there  was  any  dodging  to  be  done,  he  had  been  brought  up  to 
expect  others  to  do  it;  and  I  thought  the  chances  were  that 
he  would  seldom  be  disappointed. 

"Good  heavens!"  exclaimed  Nephew  Ronald,  as  the  mon 
ster  cannoned  against  him.  "You  didn't  mention  This. " 

"No;  I  knew  you  were  sure  to  love  him.  I  wouldn't  have 
anything  to  do  with  a  creature  who  didn't.  Isn't  he  exquisite  ?" 

"He's  a  dream,"  said  the  young  man;  but  he  did  not 
specify  what  kind  of  dream. 

"Where  I  go,  there  Tibe  goes  also,"  went  on  the  lady.  "His 
name  is  Tiberius,  but  it's  rather  long  to  say  when  he's  doing 
something  that  you  want  him  to  stop.  He'll  lunch  with  us 
like  a  perfect  gentleman.  Oh,  he  is  more  flower  than  dog! 
Tibe,  come  away  from  that  door  instantly  J" 

The  flower  had  paused  to  see  whether  he  approved  of  my 
lunch,  and  from  the  way  he  turned  back  a  protruding  black 
drapery  of  underlip  from  a  pair  of  upstanding  ivory  tusks,  I 


96  THE   CHAPERON 

judged  that  neither  it  nor  I  found  favor  in  his  eyes.  Perhaps 
he  resented  laughter  in  mine;  yet  there  was  something  after 
all  in  the  flower  simile,  if  not  precisely  what  the  blossom's 
adoring  mistress  meant.  Tibe's  face  distinctly  resembled  a 
pansy,  but  an  appalling  pansy,  the  sort  of  pansy  you  would 
not  like  to  meet  in  the  dark. 

Whatever  may  have  been  his  opinion  of  me,  he  had  to  be 
dragged  by  the  collar  from  my  door,  and  later  I  caught  the 
glitter  of  his  gaze  through  the  lattice. 

Aunt  Fay  slipped  in  between  bench  and  table,  sitting  down 
opposite  to  me,  and  when  the  nephew  took  his  old  place  I  had 
glimpses  of  her  over  his  shoulder. 

She  was  unfastening  her  veil.  Now  it  had  fallen.  Alas 
for  any  hopes  which  the  trim,  youthful  figure  might  have 
raised !  Her  thick  gray  hair  was  plastered  down  over  temples, 
cheeks,  and  ears,  and  a  pair  of  uncommonly  large  blue  spec 
tacles  left  her  eyes  to  the  imagination. 

"I  began  to  be  afraid  there  might  have  been  some  mistake 
in  the  telegram  I  sent,  after  I  got  your  letter  saying  I  mustn't 
come  to  your  address,"  began  Nephew  Ronald,  hastily,  after 
a  moment  of  silence  that  followed  the  dropping  of  the  veil. 
"What  I  said  was,  *  Buiten  Oord,  third  arbor  on  the  left  as 
you  come  in  by  main  entrance,  lunch  quarter  past  twelve. 
Any  cabman  will  know  the  place.'  Was  the  message  all 
right?" 

"Yes,"  replied  Aunt  Fay;  "but  I  suffer  a  little  with  my 
eyes.  That's  why  I  stopped  when  I  came  to  the  next  arbor. 
I'm  late,  because  darling  Tibe  ran  away  just  as  I  was  hailing  a 
cab,  so  I  had  to  let  that  one  go,  and  rescue  him  from  the 
crowd.  Wherever  he  goes  he  has  a  throng  round  him.  People 
admire  him  so  much.  Down,  my  angel !  You  mustn't  put 
your  feet  on  strange  gentlemen's  tables,  when  you're  invited 
to  lunch.  He's  hungry,  poor  lamb." 

"I  hope  you  are  also,"  said  Nephew,  politely;  but  his  voice 


There  was  a  sudden  stir  in  the  garden 


RUDOLPH  BREDERODE'S  POINT  OF  VIEW     97 

was  heavy.  I  wondered  if  he  were  disappointed  in  Aunt, 
or  if  it  was  only  that  the  Pansy  had  got  on  his  nerves.  "Here's 
my  waiter.  We'll  have  something  to  eat,  and  talk  things  over 
as  we  lunch.  There's  a  tremendous  menu  for  a  table  d'hote 
meal  —  thoroughly  Dutch.  No  other  people  could  get  through 
it  and  live.  Probably  you  would  prefer " 

"Let  me  see.  Potage  d'Artois;  Caneton  de  Luxembourg; 
Soles  aux  fines  herbes;  Pommes  Natures;  Fricandeau  de 
Veau;  Haricots  Princesse;  Poulet  roti;  Compote;  Homard 
frais;  Sauce  Ravigottes;  Salad  mele;  Creme  au  chocolat; 
Fromage;  Fruit.  Humph,  funnily  arranged,  isn't  it?  But 
Tibe  and  I  have  been  living  in  furnished  lodgings,  and  we  — 
er  —  have  eaten  rather  irregularly.  I  dare  say  between  us  we 
might  manage  the  lunch  as  it  is." 

Nephew  Ronald  ordered  it,  and  another  silence  fell.  I 
think  that  he  drummed  on  the  table. 

"We  might  as  well  get  to  business,"  suggested  the  lady. 
"Does  the  aunt  engagement  begin  immediately  ?" 

"I  —  er — there's  one  difficulty,"  faltered  the  young  man. 
"Unfortunately  I  injudiciously  let  drop  that  my  aunt  was  a 
fine  woman. " 

"Really !  You  might  better  have  waited  till  you  made  her 
acquaintance.  You  can't  pick  and  choose  in  a  hurry,  when  you 
must  have  a  ready-made  aunt,  my  dear  sir.  Myself,  I  prefer 
small  women.  They  are  more  feminine. " 

"Please  don't  be  angry.  You  see,  it  was  like  this.  I  said 
that,  when  I  still  hoped  to  have  a  real  aunt  on  hand  for  my 
purpose.  That  was  the  way  the  scrape  began.  I  inadvertently 
let  out  her  name  and  a  lot  of  things " 

"To  the  young  ladies  I'm  to  chaperon  ?" 

"Yes,  to  the  young  ladies.  If  they  remember  the  descrip 
tion - 

"You  can  say  you  referred  to  your  aunt's  character  when 
you  remarked  that  she  was  a  fine  woman." 


98  THE   CHAPERON 

"I  suppose  so"  (still  doubtfully).  "But  then  there's  an 
other  trouble,  you  know.  I  advertised  in  Het  Nieus  van 
den  Dag  for  a  Scotch  aunt." 

I  moved  suddenly,  for  a  queer  thought  jumped  into  my 
head.  The  blue  spectacles  were  focused  on  me,  and  there 
was  a  low  murmur,  to  which  the  man  responded  in  his  usual 
tone.  "No  danger.  Dutch.  I  heard  him  talking  to  the  waiter." 

Now,  perhaps  I  should  have  called  through  the  lattice  and 
the  leaves:  "Combination  of  Dutch  and  English.  Half  and 
half.  As  much  at  home  in  one  language  as  the  other."  But 
for  several  reasons  I  was  silent.  One  was,  that  it  was  easier  to 
be  silent  than  to  make  a  fuss.  Another  was  that,  if  the  sus 
picion  which  had  just  sprung  into  my  head  had  any  founda 
tion,  it  was  mine  or  any  man's  duty  to  know  the  truth  and  act 
upon  it.  So  I  sat  still,  and  went  on  with  my  luncheon  as  my 
next  door  neighbors  went  on  with  theirs;  and  no  one  remem 
bered  my  existence  except  Tibe. 

"I've  no  moral  objection  to  being  a  Scotch  aunt,"  said  the 
obliging  lady. 

"It's  your  accent,  not  your  morals,  that  sticks  in  my  throat. " 

"The  latter,  I  trust  were  sufficiently  vouched  for  in  the 
letter  from  our  American  Consul  here.  You  can  call  on  him  if 
you  choose.  Few  ready-made  aunts  obtained  by  advertise 
ment  would  have  what  I  have  to  recommend  me.  As  for  a 
Scotch  accent,  I've  bought  Burns,  and  a  Crockett  in  Tau- 
chnitz,  and  by  to-morrow  I'll  engage  that  no  one  —  unless  a 
Scotsman  —  would  know  me  from  a  Scotswoman.  Hoot, 
awa',  mon.  Come  ben," 

"But  —  er  —  my  aunt's  rather  by  way  of  being  a  swell. 
She  wouldn't  be  found  dead  saying  '  hoot,  awa',  'or  'come  ben. ' 
There's  just  a  little  indescribable  burr-r  — 

"Then  I  will  have  just  a  little  indescribable  burr-r.  And 
you  can  buy  me  a  Tartan  blouse  and  a  Tarn." 

"I'm  afraid  a  Tarn  wouldn't  —  wouldn't  quite  suit  your 


RUDOLPH  BREDERODE'S  POINT  OF  VIEW      99 

style,  or  —  or  that  of  any  well-regulated  aunt;  and  a  well- 
regulated  aunt  is  absolutely  essential  to  the  situation.  I " 

"Do  you  mean  to  insinuate  that  I  am  not  a  well-regulated 
aunt?"  There  was  a  rustling  in  the  arbor.  "Come,  Tibe," 
the  lady  added  in  a  firm  voice,  "you  and  I  will  go  away  and 
leave  this  gentlemen  to  select  from  all  the  other  charming  and 
eligible  aunts  who  have  no  doubt  answered  his  quite  conven 
tional  and  much-to-be-desired  advertisement." 

"For  heaven's  sake,  don't  go !"  cried  the  man,  springing  to 
his  feet.  "There,  your  dog's  got  the  duck.  But  it  doesn't 
matter.  Nobody  else  worth  speaking  of  —  nobody  in  any  way 
possible  —  has  answered  my  advertisement.  I  can't  lose  you. 
But,  you  see,  I  somehow  fancied  from  your  letter  that  you  were 
large  and  imposing,  just  what  I  wanted;  and  you  said  you'd 
lately  been  in  Scotland " 

"The  accent  was  one  of  the  few  things  I  did  not  wish  to 
bring  away  with  me,"  sniffed  the  lady.  "Under  the  table, 
Tibe;  we're  not  going,  after  all,  for  the  moment.  And  as  you 
have  the  duck,  you  may  as  well  eat  it." 

"Good  dog,"  groaned  the  stricken  young  man.  If  he  had 
not,  to  the  best  of  my  belief,  been  engaged  in  concocting  a 
treacherous  plot  against  one  whom  I  intended  to  protect,  I 
could  have  pitied  him. 

Both  sat  down  again.  There  was  a  pause  while  plates  were 
changed,  and  then  the  female  plotter  took  up  the  running. 

"I  may  be  conceited,"  said  she,  "but  my  opinion  is  that 
you're  very  lucky  to  get  me.  I  may  not  be  Scotch,  and  I  may 
not  be  a  'swell, '  but  I  am  —  a  lady." 

"Oh  — of  course." 

"What  were  the  others  like  who  answered  your  advertise 
ment  ?" 

"All  Dutch,  and  spoke  broken  English,  except  one,  who 
was  German.  She  wore  a  reform  dress,  hunched  up  behind 
with  unspeakable  elastic  things.  You'd  make  allowances  if 


100  THE   CHAPERON 

you  knew  what  I've  gone  through  since  the  day  before  yester 
day,  when  I  found,  after  telegraphing  a  frantic  appeal  to  my 
aunt  in  Scotland,  that  she's  left  home  and  they  could  give  me 
no  address.  I've  had  an  awful  time.  My  nerves  are  shattered." 

"Then  you'd  better  secure  peace  by  securing  me.  An  aunt 
in  the  hand  is  worth  two  in  the  bush. " 

"A  good  aunt  needs  no  bush.  I  mean  —  oh,  I  don't  know 
what  I  mean;  but,  of  course,  I  ask  nothing  better  than  to 
secure  you." 

"No;  you  mean  you  think  you'll  get  nothing  better.  Ha, 
ha!  I  agree  with  you.  But  Tibe  and  I  didn't  come  here  to  be 
played  with.  You're  giving  us  a  very  good  lunch,  but  I  have 
his  future  and  mine  to  think  of.  I  admit,  I'm  in  want  of  an 
engagement  as  a  traveling  companion  to  ladies  in  Holland; 
but  you  aren't  the  only  person  to  whom  it  occurs  to  put  ads. 
in  Dutch  papers.  If  you'd  searched  the  columns  of  Het  Nieus 
van  den  Dag  you  might  have  seen  mine.  I  have  not  been 
without  answers,  and  I  don't  know  that  I  should  care  to  be  an 
aunt,  anyway.  It  makes  one  seem  so  old.  What  I  came  to 
say  was  that,  unless  you  can  offer  me  an  immediate  engage 
ment  -  -  " 

"Oh,  I  can  and  do.  I  beg  of  you  to  be  my  aunt  from  this 
moment." 

"Tibe  to  travel  with  me  and  have  every  comfort  ?" 

"Yes,  yes,  and  luxury." 

"A  pint  of  warm  milk  every  morning,  half  a  pound  of  best 
beef  or  chicken  with  vegetables  at  noon,  two  new-laid  eggs 
at- 

" Certainly.  He  has  but  to  choose  —  he  seems  to  know  his 
own  mind  pretty  well. " 

"I  don't  think  it  a  subject  for  joking.  That  duck  was  close 
to  the  edge  of  the  table.  We'd  better  talk  business.  Your  letter 
said  a  hundred  gulden  a  week  to  a  suitable  aunt,  and  a  two 
months'  engagement  certain.  Well,  it's  not  enough.  I  should 


RUDOLPH  BREDERODE'S  POINT  OF  VIEW      101 

want  at  least  three  hundred  dollars  extra,  down  in  advance 
(I  can't  do  it  in  gulden  in  my  head)  for  your  sake." 

"For  my  sake?" 

"Don't  you  see,  to  do  you  credit  as  a  relative,  I  must  have 
things,  nice  things,  plenty  of  nice  things  ?  Tartan  blouses,  and 
if  not  Tarns,  cairngorms.  Yes,  a  cairngorm  brooch  would  be 
realistic.  I  saw  a  beauty  yesterday  —  only  two  hundred  gulden. 
No  aunt  of  yours  can  go  for  a  trip  on  the  waterways  of  Hol 
land  unless  she's  well  fitted  out." 

"I've  been  admiring  the  dress  you  are  wearing.  It's  won 
derfully  trim." 

"Thanks.  But  it  happens  to  be  about  a  hundred  years  old, 
and  is  the  only  one  I  have  left.  As  for  my  hat,  and  boots  —  but 
Tibe  and  I  have  suffered  some  undeserved  vicissitudes  of  late." 

"I'm  sorry  to  hear  that.  Of  course  you  must  have  three 
hundred  dollars  to  begin  with." 

"By  the  way,  am  I  Mrs.  or  Miss  ?" 

"You  must  know  best  as  to 

"I  mean  me  in  the  part  of  your  aunt." 

"Oh,  you're  neither  Miss  nor  Mrs." 

"Really!" 

"I  mean,  you're  married,  but  you  have  a  title." 

"That  will  come  more  expensive.  A  person  of  title  should 
have  a  diamond  guard  for  her  wedding-ring.  You  feel  that, 
don't  you?" 

"Now  you  speak  of  it,  I  do." 

"Would  you  like  her  to  wear  a  cap  for  indoors  ?" 

"Sounds  as  if  she  were  a  parlormaid  - 

"Not  at  all.  I'm  sure  a  proper  Scotch  aunt  would  wear  a 
cap." 

"Mine's  a  proper  Scotch  aunt,  and  she  doesn't."  She's 
about  forty,  but  she  looks  twenty-five.  Nobody  would  believe 
she  was  anybody's  aunt." 

"But  you  want  everybody  to  believe  I'm  yours  ?" 


102  THE   CHAPERON 

"Oh,  have  a  cap  by  all  means." 

"It  should  be  real  lace." 

"Buy  it." 

"And  another  to  change  with." 

"Buy  that  too.  Get  a  dozen  if  you  like." 

"Thanks,  I  will.  I  believe  you  just  said  the  engagement 
dates  from  to-day  ?" 

"Rather.  I  was  going  to  tell  you,  I  must  have  an  aunt  by 
this  evening.  She  arrives  from  Scotland,  you  know." 

"With  her  dog.  That's  easy." 

"I  hope  the  girls  like  dogs." 

"They  do  if  they're  nice  girls." 

"They're  enchanting  girls,  one  English,  one  American.  I 
adore  both:  that's  why  I'm  a  desperate  man  where  an  aunt's 
concerned.  To  produce  an  aunt  is  my  one  hope  of  enjoying 
their  society  on  the  motor-boat  trip  I  wrote  you  about.  I 
wouldn't  do  this  thing  if  I  weren't  desperate,  and  even  des 
perate  as  I  am,  I  wouldn't  do  it  if  I  couldn't  have  got  an  all- 
right  kind  of  aunt,  an  aunt  that  —  that  — 

"That  an  unimpeachable  American  Consul  could  vouch 
for.  I  assure  you,  Nephew,  you  ought  to  think  of  a  woman 
like  me  as  of  —  of  a  ram  caught  in  the  bushes." 

"I'm  willing  to  think  of  you  in  that  way,  if  it's  not  offen 
sive.  The  Consul  didn't  go  into  particulars " 

"That  was  unnecessary." 

"Perhaps.  Everything's  settled,  then.  I'll  count  you  out 
five  hundred  dollars  in  gulden.  Buy  what  you  choose  —  so 
long  as  it's  aunt-like.  I'll  meet  your  train  at  —  we'll  say 
seven,  the  Beurs  Station." 

"I  understand.  I'll  be  there  with  Tibe  and  our  luggage. 
But  you  haven't  told  me  your  name  yet.  I  signed  my  letter  to 
you,  Mary  Milton.  You  cautiously  - 

"Ronald  L.  Starr  is  your  nephew's  name.  Lady  Mac- 
Nairne  is  my  aunt's. " 


RUDOLPH  BREDERODE'S  POINT  OF  VIEW    103 

I  came  very  near  choking  myself  with  a  cherry-stone. 
Long  before  this  I'd  been  sure  of  his  name,  but  I  hadn't 
expected  to  hear  Lady  MacNairne's. 

"Forty,  and  looks  twenty-five." 

Yes,  that  was  a  fair  description  of  Lady  MacNairne,  as  far 
as  it  went;  but  much  more  might  be  said  by  her  admirers,  of 
whom  I  openly  declared  myself  one,  before  a  good-sized 
audience  at  a  country  house  in  Scotland,  not  quite  a  year  ago. 

It  was  merely  a  little  flirtation,  to  pass  the  time,  on  both 
our  parts.  A  woman  of  forty  who  is  a  beauty  and  a  flirt  has 
no  time  to  waste,  and  Lady  MacNairne  is  not  wasteful.  She 
was  the  handsomest  woman  at  Kinloch  Towers,  my  cousin 
Dave  Norman's  place,  and  a  Dutchman  was  a  novelty  to  her; 
so  we  amused  ourselves  for  ten  days,  and  I  should  have  kept 
the  pleasantest  memory  of  the  episode  if  Sir  Alec  had  not 
taken  it  into  his  head  to  be  jealous. 

Poor  Fleda  MacNairne  was  whisked  away  before  the 
breaking-up  of  the  house-party,  and  that  is  the  last  I  have 
seen  of  her,  but  not  the  last  I've  heard.  Once  in  a  while  I  get  a 
letter,  amusing,  erratic,  like  herself;  and  in  such  communi 
cations  she  doesn't  scruple  to  chronicle  other  flirtations  which 
have  followed  hard  on  mine.  Only  a  short  time  before  the 
making  of  this  plot  in  a  Rotterdam  garden,  a  letter  from  her 
gave  startling  news:  consequently  I  am  now  in  possession  of 
knowledge  apparently  denied  to  the  nephew. 

A  few  minutes  more  and  the  pair  in  the  next  arbor  sepa 
rated,  the  woman  departing  to  purchase  the  fittings  of  aunt- 
hood,  the  man  remaining  to  pay  the  bill.  But  before  he  had 
time  to  beckon  the  waiter  I  got  up  and  walked  into  his  lair. 

"Mr.  Starr,"  I  said,  "I'm  going  to  stop  your  game." 

"The  devil  you  are!  And  who  are  you?"  answered  he, 
first  staring,  then  flushing. 

"My  name's  Rudolph  Brederode,"  said  I. 

"You're  ad  —  d  eavesdropper,"  said  he. 


104  THE   CHAPERON 

"You  are  the  same  kind  of  a  fool,  for  thinking  because 
your  neighbor  spoke  Dutch  he  couldn't  know  English.  I  sat 
still  and  let  you  go  on,  because  I  don't  mean  to  allow  any  of 
the  persons  concerned  to  be  imposed  upon  by  you." 

He  glared  at  me  across  the  table  as  if  he  could  have  killed 
me,  and  I  glared  back  at  him ;  yet  all  the  while  I  was  conscious 
of  a  sneaking  kindness  for  the  fellow,  he  looked  so  stricken 
—  rather  like  an  endearing  scamp  of  an  Eton  boy  who  has 
got  into  a  horrid  scrape,  and  is  being  hauled  over  the  coals 
by  the  Head. 

"What  business  is  it  of  yours  ?"  he  wanted  to  know. 

"Lady  MacNairne's  a  friend  of  mine." 

"Indeed !  But  what  of  that  ?  She's  my  aunt." 

"And  Robert  van  Buren  is  another  friend,  an  intimate  one. 
He  has  told  me  about  his  cousin's  motor- boat.  He  doesn't 
approve  of  the  tour,  as  it  is.  When  he  hears  from  me  — 

"Oh,  hang  it  all,  why  do  you  want  to  be  such  a  spoilsport  ?" 
demanded  the  poor  wretch  in  torture.  "Did  you  never  fall  in 
love  with  a  girl,  and  feel  you'd  do  anything  to  get  her  ?" 

This  sudden  change,  this  throwing  himself  upon  my  mercy, 
took  me  somewhat  aback.  In  threatening  to  tear  the  mote 
from  his  eye,  what  about  a  certain  obstruction  in  mine  ? 

He  was  quick  to  see  his  advantage  and  follow  it  up. 

"You  say  you  heard  everything.  Then  you  must  see  why 
I  thought  of  this  plan.  I  hoped  at  first  Aunt  Fleda  might  be 
prevailed  on  to  come.  When  I  lost  that  hope  I  just  couldn't 
give  up  the  trip.  I  had  to  get  an  aunt  to  chaperon  those 
blessed  girls,  or  it  was  good-by  to  them,  for  me.  What  harm 
am  I  doing  ?  The  woman's  respectable;  the  Consul  has  writ 
ten  me  a  letter  about  her.  If  you  know  Aunt  Fay  —  that's 
my  name  for  her  —  you  know  she  would  call  this  the  best 
kind  of  a  lark.  I'll  confess  to  her  some  day.  I'd  have  my  head 
cut  off  sooner  than  injure  Miss  Rivers  or  Miss  Van  Buren. 
Afterwards,  when  we've  got  to  be  great  friends,  they  shall  hear 


RUDOLPH  BREDERODE'S  POINT  OF  VIEW    105 

the  whole  story,  I  promise;  but  of  course,  you  can  ruin  me  if 
you  tell  them,  or  let  your  friend  tell  them,  at  this  stage.  Do 
you  think  it's  fair  to  take  advantage  of  what  you  overheard 
by  accident,  and  spoil  the  chance  of  my  life  ?  Oh,  say  now, 
what  can  I  do  to  make  you  keep  still  ?" 

"Well,  I'm  —  hanged!"  was  all  I  could  answer.  And  a 
good  deal  to  my  own  surprise,  I  heard  myself  suddenly  burst 
into  sardonic  laughter. 

Then  he  laughed,  too,  and  we  roared  together.  If  any  one 
noticed  us,  they  must  have  thought  us  friends  of  a  lifetime; 
yet  five  minutes  ago  we  had  been  like  dogs  ready  to  fly  at  each 
other's  throats,  and  there  was  no  earthly  reason  why  we  should 
not  be  of  the  same  mind  still. 

"You  are  going  to  let  me  alone,  aren't  you  ?"  he  continued 
to  plead,  when  he  was  calmer.  "You  are  going  to  do  unto  me 
as  you'd  be  done  by,  and  give  my  true  love  a  chance  to  run 
smooth  ?  If  you  refuse,  I  could  wish  that  fearful  Flower  back 
that  I  might  set  him  at  you." 

My  lips  twitched.  "I'm  not  sure,"  said  I,  "whether  you 
ought  to  be  in  a  gaol  or  in  the  school- room." 

"I  ought  to  be  on  a  motor-boat  tour  with  the  two  most 
charming  girls  in  the  world;  and  if  I'm  not  to  be  there,  I 
might  as  well  be  in  my  grave.  Do  ask  people  about  me.  Ask  my 
aunt.  I'm  not  a  villain  I'm  one  of  the  nicest  fellows  you  ever 
met,  and  I've  no  bad  intentions.  I've  got  too  much  money 
to  be  an  adventurer.  Why,  look  here !  I'm  supposed  to  be  quite 
a  good  match.  Either  of  the  girls  can  have  me  and  my  millions. 
Both  are  at  the  feet  of  either.  At  present  I've  no  choice. 
Don't  drive  me  to  drink.  I  should  hate  to  die  of  Schnapps; 
and  there's  nothing  else  liquid  I  could  well  die  of  in  Holland." 

As  he  talked,  I  had  been  thinking  hard  and  fast.  I  should 
have  to  spare  him.  I  saw  that.  But  —  I  saw  something  else  too. 

"I'll  keep  your  ridiculous  secret,  Mr.  Starr,  on  one  con 
dition,"  I  said. 


106  THE   CHAPERON 

"You've  only  to  name  it." 

"Invite  me  to  go  with  you  on  the  trip." 

"My  dear  fellow,  for  heaven's  sake  don't  ask  me  the  one 
thing  I  can't  do.  It's  cruelty  to  animals.  It  isn't  my  trip. 
I'm  a  guest.  Perhaps  you  don't  understand  — 

"Yes,  I  do.  Van  Buren  told  me.  He  mentioned  that  you 
hadn't  been  able  to  get  a  skipper  to  take  the  motor-boat 
through  the  canals." 

"That's  true.  But  we  shan't  be  delayed.  We  have  our 
choice  between  two  chaps  with  fair  references;  not  ideal  men, 
perhaps;  but  you  don't  need  an  admiral  to  get  you  through  a 
herring-pond " 

"Each  canal  is  different  from  every  other.  You  must  have 
a  first-rate  man,  who  knows  every  inch  of  the  way,  whatever 
route  you  choose,  or  you'll  get  into  serious  trouble.  Now,  as 
you've  been  praising  yourself,  I'll  follow  your  example.  You 
couldn't  find  a  skipper  who  knows  more  about '  botoring '  and 
Dutch  waterways  than  I  do,  and  I  volunteer  for  the  job.  I  go 
if  you  go;  there's  the  offer." 

"Are  you  serious  ?"  All  his  nonsense  was  suddenly  forgotten 

"Absolutely." 

"Why  do  you  want  to  go  ?  You  must  have  a  reason." 

"I  have.  It's  much  the  same  as  yours." 

"I'm  blowed !  Then  you've  met  —  Them." 

"I've  seen  them.  Apparently  that's  about  all  you've  done." 

"You  mean,  if  I  won't  get  you  on  board  as  skipper  you'll 
give  me  away  ?" 

I  was  silent.  I  did  not  now  mean  anything  of  the  kind, 
for  it  would  be  impossible  to  betray  the  engaging  wretch.  But 
I  was  willing  that  he  should  think  my  silence  gave  consent. 

"They  would  know  you  weren't  a  common  hired  skipper. 
How  could  I  explain  you  ?" 

"Why,  say  you've  a  Dutch  friend  who  has  —  kindly  offered 
to  go,  as  you  can't  find  any  one  else  who's  competent  for  the 


RUDOLPH  BREDERODE'S  POINT  OF  VIEW    107 

job.  You'd  better  not  mention  your  friend's  name  at  first,  if 
you  can  avoid  it.  As  the  ladies  have  been  anxious  about  the 
skipper,  and  asked  van  Buren  to  get  one,  they'll  probably  be 
thankful  it's  all  right,  and  only  too  glad  to  accept  a  friend  of 
yours  in  the  place. " 

"Poor,  deceived  angels !  What's  to  prevent  your  snatching 
one  of  them  from  under  my  very  nose  ?" 

"You  must  run  the  risk  of  that.  Besides,  you  needn't  worry 
about  it  till  you  make  up  your  mind  which  angel  you  want." 

"I  should  naturally  want  whichever  one  you  did.  We  are 
made  like  that." 

"If  you  don't  agree,  and  they  go  'botoring'  without  you, 
you  can't  get  either." 

"That's  true.  Most  disagreeable  things  are.  And  there's 
just  a  chance,  if  you  get  dangerous,  that  Tibe  might  polish  you 
off.  I  saw  the  way  he  looked  at  you.  Well,  needs  must  when 
somebody  drives.  It's  a  bargain  then.  I'll  tell  the  girls  what 
a  kind,  generous  Dutch  friend  I  have.  We'll  be  villains  to 
gether." 


IX 

WE  settled  that  Starr  should  see  Miss  Van  Buren 
and  Miss  Rivers  and  tell  them  that  skipper, 
chauffeur,  and  chaperon  all  being  provided, 
there  was  nothing  to  prevent  the  tour  beginning 
to-morrow.  Having  done  this,  without  bringing  in  his  obliging 
friend's  name,  he  was  so  meet  me  at  the  Rowing  Club  at 
three  o'clock  with  a  detailed  report  of  all  that  had  happened 
up  to  date. 

Never  was  time  slower  in  passing.  Each  minute  seemed  as 
long  as  the  dying  speech  of  a  tragedian  who  fancies  himself  in 
a  death  scene.  I  wanted  to  use  some  of  these  minutes  in 
writing  to  Robert,  but  it  would  be  premature  to  tell  him  that  I 
was  going  to  look  after  his  cousin  and  her  sister  on  the  trip,  as 
the  ladies  might  abandon  it,  rather  than  put  up  with  my 
society. 

When  ten  minutes  past  three  came,  and  no  Starr,  I  was 
certain  that  they  would  not  have  me.  I  could  hardly  have  been 
gloomier  if  I'd  been  waiting  for  a  surgical  operation.  But 
another  five  minutes  brought  my  confederate,  and  the  first 
sight  of  his  face  sent  my  spirits  up  with  a  bound. 

"It's  all  right,"  he  said.  "They've  come  back  from  Sche- 
veningen.  I  saw  them  at  their  hotel,  and  they're  more  beauti 
ful  than  ever.  They  were  prostrate  with  grief  at  hearing  I 
hadn't  been  able  to  get  hold  of  a  skipper;  consequently  they 
were  too  excited  to  ask  your  name  when  I  gave  them  the 
cheering  news  that  a  Dutch  friend  had  come  to  the  rescue. 
They  simply  swallowed  you  whole,  and  clamored  for  the  next 
course,  so  I  added  the  —  er  —  glad  tidings  of  my  aunt's 

108 


RUDOLPH  BREDERODE'S  POINT  OF  VIEW    109 

arrival  this  evening,  and  poured  the  last  drop  of  joy  in  their 
cup  by  saying  we  could  start  to-morrow.  They're  going  to 
bring  most  of  their  things  on  board  after  tea  this  afternoon, 
about  five.  Oh,  by  the  way,  just  as  I  was  leaving,  Miss  Van 
Buren  did  call  after  me,  *  Is  your  friend  nice  ?'  ' 

I  laughed.  "What  did  you  answer  ?" 

"I  thought  one  more  fib  among  so  many  couldn't  matter, 
so  I  said  you  were.  Heaven  forgive  me.  By-the-by,  are  you 
really  Dutch,  or  is  that  another  —  figure  of  speech  ?" 

"I  always  think  and  speak  of  myself  as  wholly  Dutch,"  I 
replied.  "But  my  mother  is  English.  By-the-by,  I  must 
telegraph  her;  and  I  must  write  my  man  to  bring  me  some 
clothes  the  first  thing  to-morrow  morning.  Then  you'd  better 
send  for  the  chauffeur  you've  engaged;  and  we'll  go  together 
to  interview  him  on  the  boat  before  the  ladies  come.  I  think  — 
er  —  it  won't  be  best  for  me  to  meet  them  till  to-morrow.  Are 
you  sure  your  chauffeur's  a  good  man  ?" 

"Not  at  all,"  said  Starr,  airily.  "I  merely  know  that  he's 
a  very  young  youth,  who  makes  you  feel  like  a  grandfather  at 
twenty-seven;  who  wriggles  and  turns  pink  if  you  speak  to 
him  suddenly,  and  when  he  wants  his  handkerchief  to  mop  his 
perpetually  moist  forehead,  pulls  yards  of  cotton  waste  out  of 
his  pocket,  by  mistake.  I've  only  his  word  for  it  —  which  I 
couldn't  understand,  as  it  was  in  Dutch  —  that  he  has  the 
slightest  knowledge  of  any  motor.  But  he  showed  me  written 
references,  and  seemed  so  proud  of  what  they  set  forth,  I 
thought  they  must  be  all  right,  though  I  couldn't  read  them." 

"You're  a  queer  fellow!"  I  exclaimed. 

"Well,  you  see,  I'm  an  artist  —  neither  motorist  nor  botorist. 
By  the  way,  what  are  you,  beyond  being  van  Buren's  friend  ?" 

"A  Jack  of  several  trades,"  said  I.  "I  know  a  bit  about 
horses,  botors,  motors;  I  fancy  I'm  a  judge  of  dogs  (I  con 
gratulate  you  on  Tibe),  also  of  chauffeurs,  so  come  along  and 
we'll  put  yours  through  his  paces." 


110  THE   CHAPERON 

It  now  appeared  that  Starr  had  the  youth  on  board.  So 
I  sent  my  two  telegrams,  and  we  started  to  walk  to  the  boat. 
On  the  way  Starr  told  me  more  than  I  had  heard  from  Robert 
about  his  first  dealings  with  "Lorelei,"  and  we  discussed  de 
tails  of  the  trip.  The  ladies  have  no  choice,  it  appears,  except 
that  they  will  feel  ill-used  if  allowed  to  miss  anything.  As  for 
Starr,  he  confessed  blissful  ignorance  of  Holland. 

"I  want  to  go  where  cows  wear  coats,  and  women  wear 
gold  helmets,  and  dogs  have  revolving  kennels,"  he  said. 
"And  I  want  to  paint  everything  I  see." 

"Cows  wear  coats  at  Gouda.  I  expect  you  read  that  in 
Carlyle's  'Sartor  Resartus.'  Women  wear  gold  helmets  in 
Friesland.  Dogs  have  revolving  kennels  in  Zeeland,"  I  told 
him.  "And  if  you  want  to  paint  everything  you  see,  we  shall 
be  gone  a  long  time." 

"All  the  better,"  said  Starr. 

I  agreed. 

"It  would  be  useful  if  you  could  plan  out  a  trip,"  he  went 
on.  "It  would  help  to  account  for  you,  you  know,  and  make 
you  popular. " 

I  caught  at  this  idea.  There  are  a  good  many  places  that 
I  should  like  to  show  Miss  Van  Buren,  and  visit  with  her. 
"I  should  have  preferred  her  seeing  my  country  on  our  wed 
ding-trip,"  I  said  to  myself.  "This  is  the  next  best,  though, 
and  we  can  have  the  honeymoon  in  Italy."  But  aloud  I  re 
marked  that  I  would  map  out  something  and  submit  it  to 
my  passengers  in  the  morning. 

My  mother  laughs,  telling  me  that  I  must  always  go  in  for 
any  new  fad,  whatever  it  may  be,  and  that  she  expects  some 
day  to  see  several  makes  of  airship  tethered  on  the  lawn  at 
Liliendaal,  or  tied  to  our  chimneys  at  The  Hague  in  winter. 
There's  something  in  her  jibe,  perhaps;  but  it  would  be  a 
queer  thing,  indeed,  if  a  son  of  the  water-country  didn't  turn 
to  "botoring,"  provided  he  had  any  soul  for  sport.  We  Hoi- 


RUDOLPH  BREDERODE'S  POINT  OF  VIEW    111 

landers  made  practical  use  of  motor-boats  while  the  people 
of  dry  lands  still  poked  ridicule  at  them  in  comic  illustrated 
papers;  therefore  this  will  be  by  no  means  my  first  experience. 
I  had  that  three  years  ago  with  a  racer,  and  again  with  a  barge 
which  I  fitted  up  with  a  twenty  horse-power  motor,  and  used 
for  a  whole  summer,  after  which,  in  a  generous  mood,  I  gave 
her  as  a  wedding-gift  to  my  chauffeur,  whose  bride's  greatest 
ambition  was  for  barge-life.  Since  that  time  I've  always  meant 
to  get  something  good  in  the  botoring  line,  but  haven't  made 
up  my  mind  what  it  ought  to  be. 

I  did  myself  no  more  than  justice  in  telling  Starr  that  I 
was  as  desirable  a  man  as  he  could  find  for  skipper;  and  I 
shook  hands  with  myself  for  every  hour  of  botoring  I  had 
done.  Thanks  to  past  experience  I  can  now  do  chauffeur's 
work,  if  necessary,  as  well  as  skipper's. 

We  found  the  "very  young  youth"  on  deck,  industriously 
polishing  brass- work,  and  his  complexion  bore  out  Starr's 
description  as  I  questioned  him  about  his  former  situations. 
It  seems  there  was  only  one,  and  with  a  small  boat;  but  the 
motor  was  the  same  as  this. 

The  arrangement  of  "Lorelei's"  deck  aft  pleases  me  particu 
larly,  for  it  might  have  been  designed  to  suit  my  purpose. 
That  purpose  is  to  have  as  much  of  Miss  Van  Buren's  society 
as  possible  during  this  trip.  Consequently  I  saw  with  pleasure 
that  the  passengers  in  their  deck-chairs  must  group  round  the 
skipper  at  his  wheel,  as  there  is  no  other  comfortable  place. 
There  will  be  no  notice  up  on  board  "Lorelei":  "Please  do  not 
speak  to  the  man  at  the  wheel."  The  more  he  is  spoken  to  — 
by  the  right  person  —  the  better  he  will  like  his  job.  What 
I  have  to  pray  for  is  dry  weather,  that  the  ladies  may  spend 
their  days  on  deck,  for  just  as  much  time  as  they  spend  below 
I  shall  consider  that  I  am  wasting.  Indeed,  I  regret  the  at 
tractiveness  of  the  cabins,  for  I  fear  there  may  be  a  tempta 
tion  to  dawdle  there,  or  lie  among  cushions  on  the  comfortable 


112  THE   CHAPERON 

seat-bunks  on  a  gray  or  chilly  day.  "I  hope  she's  as  much 
interested  in  scenery  as  she  apparently  is  in  history,"  I  said 
to  myself  as  Starr  and  I  wandered  over  the  boat,  "for  the 
skipper-job  can  be  combined  with  the  business  of  lecturer  and 
cicerone,  if  that  proves  a  bid  for  popularity." 

Aft  of  the  cabins  is  the  motor-house;  and  hearing  our 
voices  through  the  skylight,  chauffeur  Hendrik  left  the  brass- 
work  and  came  to  stand  by  his  engine.  I  immediately  deter 
mined  to  study  this  engine  thoroughly,  so  that  if  Hendrik's 
intelligence  prove  untrustworthy  in  an  emergency,  mine  may 
be  prepared  to  assist  it. 

He  soon  saw  that  it  was  useless  to  "show  off"  before  me, 
but  he  enjoyed  explaining  the  motor  in  broken  English  to 
Starr.  The  American  artist  heard  with  a  vague  smile  the  dif 
ference  between  the  ordinary  four-cycle  engine  of  an  auto 
mobile,  and  the  two-cycle  engine  of  this  marine  motor,  with 
its  piston  receiving  an  impulse  at  each  down  stroke;  tried 
to  understand  how  the  charge  of  vaporized  petrol  was  drawn 
into  the  crank-chamber,  and  there  slightly  compressed;  how 
the  gas  afterwards  traveled  along  a  by-pass  into  the  firing 
chamber  at  the  upper  part  of  the  cylinder,  to  be  further  com 
pressed  by  the  up-stroke  of  the  piston  and  fired  by  the  spark 
ing  plug,  while  the  burnt  gases  escaped  through  a  port  un 
covered  by  the  piston  in  its  downward  strokes,  admission 
and  exhaust  being  thus  controlled  by  the  piston  movement 
alone. 

"Great  heavens!  I  wronged  this  good  youth,"  the  patient 
listener  cried,  when  he  found  a  chance  to  speak.  "I  thought 
him  all  pinkness,  and  perspiration,  and  purple  velvet  slippers, 
but  he  can  pull  information  by  the  yard  out  of  his  brain,  as 
he  does  cotton  waste  out  of  his  pocket.  Unfortunately,  it's 
waste  too,  as  far  as  I'm  concerned;  for  I  don't  know  any  more 
about  this  motor  now  than  I  did  when  he  began.  The  tap 
of  my  intelligence  always  seems  to  be  turned  off  the  minute 


RUDOLPH  BREDERODE'S  POINT  OF  VIEW    113 

anything  technical  or  mechanical  is  mentioned.  Some  of 
those  things  he  said  sounded  more  like  the  description  of  a 
lunatic  asylum  than  anything  else,  and  the  only  impression 
left  on  my  mind  is  one  of  dreadful  gloom." 

"Why?"  I  asked. 

"Because  it  seems  impossible  that  anything  which  has  to 
do  so  much  at  the  same  time  as  this  engine  does,  can  remember 
to  do  half  of  it.  It  will  certainly  fail,  and  blow  up  with  those 
we  love  on  board.  I  never  thought  of  that  until  now,  and 
shouldn't  if  Hendrik  hadn't  explained  things  to  me." 

"We  can't  blow  up  unless  the  petrol  gets  on  fire,"  said  I, 
"and  as  the  tank's  away  at  the  bow  of  the  boat  and  the  petrol 
descends  to  the  engine  by  gravity  and  not  pressure,  you  needn't 
have  nightmare  on  that  subject." 

"That's  another  horror  I  hadn't  realized,"  groaned  Starr. 
"I  took  things  for  granted,  and  trusted  other  people  to  know 
them.  A  whole  tank  of  petrol  at  the  bow !  How  much  will  there 
be  in  it  ?" 

"Enough  to  last  four  days. " 

"One  of  the  ladies  is  sure  to  set  it  on  fire  when  she's  curling 
her  hair  with  a  spirit-lamp.  Yet  we  can't  forbid  them  to  curl 
their  hair  on  their  own  boat.  Perhaps  they'd  better  sleep  on 
the  barge,  after  all.  I  meant  it  to  be  for  the  men  of  the  party." 

"Nonsense,"  said  I.  "They're  reasonable  creatures.  Be 
sides,  Miss  Van  Buren's  hair  curls  naturally  " 

"How  can  you  know  ?" 

"Well,  I  do."  And  before  my  eyes  arose  the  picture  of  a 
bright  goddess  of  foam  and  spray. 

"Hum !  I  begin  to  see  which  way  the  wind  blows.  I'm  not 
sure  she  isn't  the  one  I  myself " 

"We  were  talking  about  the  motor,"  I  cut  in.  "The  water 
jacketing  seems  thoroughly  carried  out;  and  when  the  party's 
assembled  on  deck,  it  will  hear  no  more  noise  than  the  buzzing 
of  a  big  bee,  as  the  exhaust  is  led  away  below  the  water-line. 


114  THE   CHAPERON 

It  won't  be  bad  in  the  cabins  either,  even  when  they  keep  the 
sliding  door  open.,  for  this  screen  of  thick  sail-cloth  will  deaden 
what  sound  there  is.  And  it  was  a  smart  idea  to  utilize  the 
power  of  the  magneto  to  light  up  the  whole  boat  with  those 
incandescent  burners." 

"Your  mechanical  information,  on  top  of  Hendrik's,  is 
giving  me  a  kind  of  acute  mental  dyspepsia,"  sighed  Starr. 
"I  hate  well-informed  people;  they're  so  fond  of  telling  you 
things  you  don't  want  to  know.  Still,  I  realize  that  you're 
going  to  be  useful  in  a  way,  so  I  suppose  I  must  make  the 
best  of  you;  and,  anyhow,  we  shan't  see  much  of  each  other, 
except  at  meals." 

"Shan't  we  ?  Why,  are  you  going  to  spend  most  of  your 
time  on  board  your  barge,  steering  ?  " 

"Not  I.  I've  engaged  a  man.  Didn't  I  tell  you.  A  nice, 
handy  man,  not  too  big  for  his  boots,  or  rather,  his  carpet 
slippers.  He'll  cook,  sweep,  dust,  and  make  beds  as  well  as 
keep  the  barge  steady." 

"While  I'm  skipper  of  *  Lorelei,'  nobody  wears  carpet  slip 
pers,  or  purple  velvet  ones  either,  on  board  this  boat  or  her 
tender.  I  suppose,  if  you're  not  going  to  steer,  you  mean  to 
occupy  yourself  in  your  studio,  painting.  A  wise  arrange 
ment - 

"From  your  point  of  view.  But  it  isn't  my  intention.  I 
shall  —  if  the  ladies  don't  object  —  sit  mostly  on  '  Lorelei's  ' 
deck,  making  sketches,  and  entertaining  them  as  well  as  I 
know  how  —  though  not  with  technical  information." 

"I  shall  be  there  to  give  them  that,  if  they  want  it,"  said  I. 

"  You  ?  You'll  have  to  be  at  the  bow,  skippering. " 

"I  don't  skipper  at  the  bow,  thank  you.  I  skipper  on  deck 
aft,  where  I  stand  at  the  wheel  and  have  full  control  of  the 
engine  through  this  long  lever  that's  carried  up  from  the  en 
gine-room." 

"Hang  it,  I  thought  Hendrik,  as  chauffeur,  would  have  to 


RUDOLPH  BREDERODE'S  POINT  OF  VIEW    115 

be  there,  and  you'd  keep  a  sort  of  outlook  with  a  binnacle  or 
something,  for'rard.  You  are  going  to  be  a  regular  Albatross 
to  my  Ancient  Mariner,  aren't  you  ?" 

"Don't  forget  that  it's  by  grace  of  the  Albatross  that  you're 
a  Mariner  at  all." 

"I  shall  call  you  *Alb,'  when  I  feel  your  weight  too  much," 
said  Starr,  and  then  we  two  villains  of  the  piece  could  not 
forbear  a  grin  in  each  other's  faces.  I  even  found  myself 
wondering  if  the  Ancient  One  and  his  Bird  might  not  form  for 
one  another  a  kind  of  attachment  of  habit,  in  the  end. 

It's  certainly  a  queer  association,  this  of  ours,  but  as  the 
Mariner  proposed  to  do,  we  began  to  make  the  best  of  it;  and 
we  finished  my  visit  to  the  boat  on  outwardly  friendly  terms. 
We  even  sat  on  deck  and  put  our  heads  together  over  my 
note-book,  in  which  I  jotted  down  a  plan  of  the  tour.  With 
"Lorelei,"  I  assured  him,  we  had  but  to  choose  our  route,  for 
as  she  draws  only  from  three  to  three  and  a  half  feet  of  water, 
all  the  waterways  are  open  to  us.  Did  she  draw  more,  she 
would  be  useless,  even  in  certain  rivers,  in  a  dry  season  such 
as  this  is  proving,  and  in  many  small  canals  at  any  season. 
There's  only  one  thing  which  may  bother  us  in  the  Frisian 
Meers,  where  we  can't  shove  with  a  quant  pole,  or  if  we  ven 
ture  out  to  sea:  we  have  no  means  of  propulsion  except  the 
motor,  and  as  we  carry  no  mast,  we  cannot  set  so  much  as  a 
yard  of  canvas.  If  anything  should  go  wrong  with  the  motor, 
brilliant  "Lorelei"  will  instantly  become  a  mere  hulk  at  the 
mercy  of  wind  and  wave.  However,  as  Starr  remarked  sagely, 
we  can  stop  in  port  for  wind  and  wave,  and  be  very  happy. 

As  we  talked,  down  on  a  page  of  my  note-book  went  a 
roughly  sketched  map  of  Holland,  jny  idea  being  to  begin 
with  Gouda,  going  on  to  Leiden,  slipping  through  the  villa 
ges  of  South  Holland,  which  seem  strange  to  travelers,  and 
skirting  the  great  polder  that  was  once  the  famed  Haarlemmer- 
Meer.  Then,  having  seen  Haarlem  sitting  on  her  throne  of 


116  THE   CHAPERON 

flowers,  to  pass  on,  giving  a  few  days  to  Amsterdam  and  in 
teresting  places  in  the  neighborhood,  watery  market-towns 
and  settlements  of  the  merchant  princes.  Next  in  order  the 
curious  island  of  Marken,  and  the  artists'  haunts  at  Volen- 
dam.  From  there,  to  turn  toward  the  north  and  the  Dead 
Cities  of  the  Zuider  Zee,  crossing  afterwards  to  Friesland  in 
search  of  beauties  in  golden  helmets,  and  lingering  for  a  while 
among  the  Frisian  Meers.  Later,  we  might  work  our  way 
through  Holland's  most  desolate  and  savage  province,  Dren- 
the,  to  the  hills  of  Gelderland  (my  native  country),  and  finish 
the  trip  with  a  grand  climax  in  Zeeland,  most  mysterious  and 
picturesque  of  all,  half  hidden  in  the  sea= 

I  traced  the  proposed  route  for  Starr,  telling  him  that  we 
could  do  such  a  tour  in  five  weeks  or  eight,  according  to  the 
inclinations  of  the  travelers,  and  the  length  of  time  they 
cared  to  spend  in  each  place.  As  to  that,  the  ladies  must  de 
cide,  I  said,  and  choose  whether  they  would  sleep  each  night 
on  "Lorelei,"  or  see  more  of  Dutch  life  by  going  to  hotels.  But, 
in  any  case,  I  must  plan  to  bring  the  boat  each  evening  near 
enough  civilization  to  obtain  supplies. 

"A  good  itinerary,"  said  the  Mariner,  approving  his  Alba 
tross,  "but  I  warn  you  I  shall  claim  half  the  credit.  When  you 
see  me  swaggering,  and  hear  me  boasting  of  the  plans  my 
friend  Brederode  and  I  have  mapped  out,  contradict  me  if 
you  dare.  I  will  defy  you  in  some  things,  or  I  shall  burst  of 
sheer  spite;  and  we  can  test  it  now,  if  you  like,  for  here  they 
come." 

It  was  true.  They  were  in  a  cab,  with  luggage  under  the 
driver's  feet.  I  had  let  time  slip  away,  forgetting  that  I  meant 
to  escape  before  five,  when  Starr  had  told  me  they  were  due. 

But  I  was  determined  not  to  meet  them  now.  There  was 
still  time  for  Miss  Van  Buren  to  find  some  excuse  and  wreck 
the  tour,  if  she  were  annoyed  by  my  obstinate  determination 
to  know  her.  To-morrow  there  will  not  be  time,  unless  she 


RUDOLPH  BREDERODE'S  POINT  OF  VIEW    117 

cares  to  make  a  scene;  and  I  don't  think  she  is  a  girl  to  make 
scenes. 

"No.  I'll  leave  your  friends  to  you,  for  the  present,"  said 
I.  "We  ought  to  start  by  ten  to-morrow,  and  I'll  be  on  hand 
at  nine." 

"I  know  not  whether  to  curse  or  bless  you,"  said  the  Mar 
iner.  But  I  gave  him  no  time  to  do  either.  I  was  off,  and  out 
of  the  way  before  I  could  be  noticed  and  recognized  by  the 
occupants  of  the  cab.  Then,  back  to  the  Club  I  came  to  write  a 
short  letter  to  Robert,  and  to  jot  down  a  few  happenings  for 
mv  own  benefit  later. 


X 

IT  was  nine  in  the  morning  —  a  clean-washed  morning  of 
blue  and  gold  —  when  I  arrived  on  board  "Lorelei," 
with  a  small  box  which  my  man  brought  me  from  Lilien- 
daal,  according  to  telegraphed  orders. 

No  one  was  there  but  the  chauffeur,  though  on  board  the 
barge  "Waterspin"  the  "handy  man"  had  arrived,  and  was 
settling  into  his  new  quarters.  Toon  de  Jongh  is  his  name, 
and  I  conceived  a  liking  for  his  grave  brown  face,  at  sight. 
I  know  his  type  well,  a  type  which  excels  in  deeds,  not  words, 
and  was  bred  in  the  Low  Countries  by  certain  policies  of 
Philip  Second  of  Spain.  He  liked  me  too,  for  some  reason 
or  other,  I  saw  by  his  eyes,  in  a  way  one  never  mistakes  but 
can  never  explain. 

I  had  to  find  my  quarters  on  the  barge,  and  going  below, 
on  the  first  door  I  saw  a  visiting  card  of  Mr.  Ronald  L.  Starr's 
conspicuously  pinned,  with  the  one  word  "Alb"  printed  large 
upon  it,  in  red  ink.  Chuckling,  I  took  possession  of  the  cabin, 
hauled  my  things  out  from  my  box,  and  had  got  them  mostly 
packed  in  lockers  and  drawers,  when  I  heard  the  sound  of 
voices  on  "Lorelei." 

She  was  there.  What  would  she  say  when  she  discovered 
that  the  man  she  had  "thanked  enough  and  didn't  want  to  see 
again  "  had  foisted  himself  upon  her  party  ? 

The  evil  moment  couldn't  be  postponed  for  long.  I  might 
give  them  time  to  go  below,  and  add  the  contents  of  their 
dressing-bags  to  the  belongings  they  had  bestowed  in  the 
cabins  yesterday  afternoon,  but  that  would  take  fifteen  min 
utes  at  most,  and  then  they  would  be  wanting  to  start.  I  should 

118 


RUDOLPH  BREDERODE'S  POINT  OF  VIEW    119 

have  to  get  on  board  "Lorelei,"  be  introduced,  and  face  the 
music,  whether  it  played  the  "Rogue's  March,"  or  "Hail,  the 
Conquering  Hero !" 

The  sound  of  girls'  laughter  was  so  upsetting  that  I  couldn't 
decide  what  to  do  with  my  collars  and  neckties.  I  wandered 
aimlessly  about  the  cabin  with  my  hands  full,  grumbling 
aloud,  "What  an  ass  you  are!"  and  hadn't  yet  made  up  my 
mind  to  cross  over  to  "Lorelei"  when  Starr  pounded  on  the 
half -open  door. 

"Thank  goodness,  you're  here!"  he  exclaimed,  as  the  door 
fell  back  and  revealed  me. 

"W7hat  has  happened  to  make  you  give  thanks  ?"  I  asked, 
disposing  hurriedly  of  the  neckties. 

"Any  port  in  a  storm  —  even  Albport.  And  there  is  a 
storm,  an  awful  storm;  at  least  "Lorelei's"  staggering  about  as 
if  she  were  half-seas  over,  and  if  you  don't  get  us  off  at  once 
every  soul  on  board  will  be  lost,  or,  what's  worse,  seasick.  A 
nice  beginning  for  the  trip !" 

I  am  so  much  at  home  on  the  water  that  I  hadn't  noticed 
the  tossing  and  lolloping  of  the  barge,  but  I  realized  now  what 
was  the  matter.  The  morning  was  fresh,  with  a  gusty  wind 
blowing  up  the  Maas,  against  the  tide  running  strongly  out; 
and  consequently  little  "Lorelei"  and  sturdy  "Waterspin" 
strained  at  their  moorings  like  chained  dogs  who  spy  a  bone 
just  beyond  their  reach. 

I  didn't  stop  to  answer,  but  bolted  off  the  barge  and  onto 
the  motor-boat. 

Toon  and  Hendrik  cast  off  the  moorings,  the  chauffeur 
flew  below  to  set  his  engine  going;  I  took  the  wheel,  pushed 
over  the  starting  lever,  the  little  propeller  began  to  turn,  and 
we  were  away  on  the  first  of  the  watery  miles  which  stretch 
before  us,  for  joy  or  sorrow. 

Starr  had  followed  Hendrik  below,  and  just  as  the  motor 
was  getting  well  to  work,  revolving  under  my  feet  at  the  rate 


120  THE   CHAPERON 

of  six  hundred  revolutions  a  minute,  I  heard  his  voice  shout 
ing - 

"Hullo,  hullo !  catch  the  dog !  —  you  up  there." 

At  the  same  instant  arose  a  babel  of  cries,  "Oh,  my  angel ! 
Don't  let  him  drown!  Save  him!"  and  the  Emperor  Tiberius 
shot  up  the  companion  as  if  launched  from  a  catapult.  Unused 
to  engines  and  a  life  on  the  wave,  frightened  by  the  teuf-teuf 
of  the  motor,  his  next  bound  would  have  carried  him  over 
board  into  the  river;  but  hanging  on  to  the  wheel  with  one 
hand,  with  the  other  I  seized  the  dog  by  the  collar  —  a  new, 
resplendent  collar  —  just  as  somebody  else,  rushing  to  the 
rescue  from  below,  caught  him  by  the  tail. 

It  was  Miss  Van  Buren. 

For  a  second  —  I  bending  down,  she  stretching  up  —  our 
faces  were  neighbors,  and  I  had  time  to  see  her  expression 
undergo  several  lightning  changes  —  surprise,  incredulity, 
and  a  few  others  not  as  easy  to  read  —  before  she  retired, 
leaving  Tibe  to  me.  Instead  of  coming  up  on  deck  as  she  had 
evidently  intended  to  do,  she  vanished,  and  a  head  exquisitely 
hatted  and  blue- veiled  appeared  in  place  of  hers. 

A  moment  later  the  tiny  lady  of  the  arbor,  transformed 
into  Parisian  elegance  by  an  effective  white  yachting  costume, 
with  a  coquettish  blue  yachting-cap  on  her  gray  hair,  the 
goggling  effect  of  the  glasses  softened  by  the  floating  folds  of 
azure  chiffon,  arrived  to  succor  her  beloved.  She  started 
slightly,  staring  at  me  through  veil  and  spectacles,  and  I 
deduced  that  whatever  Starr  had  told  his  "aunt"  about  the 
skipper,  it  had  not  prepared  her  to  meet  the  man  of  the  ar 
bor.  Those  hidden  eyes  recognized  me,  and  took  in  the 
situation. 

Under  their  fire  I  realized  that  the  success  of  my  adventure 
might  largely  depend  upon  the  chaperon;  and  if,  suspecting 
something  more  than  met  her  gaze,  she  should  strike  an  atti 
tude  of  disapproval,  she  could  prejudice  the  girls  against  the 


RUDOLPH  BREDERODE'S  POINT  OF  VIEW    121 

skipper,  and  so  manoeuver  that  he  had  his  trouble  for  his 
pains. 

With  this  danger  ahead,  I  redoubled  my  attentions  to 
Tiberius;  but  it  was  fortunate  for  me  that  the  doubts  he  enter 
tained  of  the  man  in  the  arbor  were  chased  away  by  gratitude 
for  the  man  on  the  boat.  If  it  had  not  been  so,  such  is  the 
primitive  sincerity  of  dog  kind  —  especially  bulldog  kind  — 
no  bribe  in  my  power  to  offer  could  have  induced  him  to  dis 
simulate.  I  knew  this,  and  trembled;  but  Tibe,  being  an 
animal  of  parts,  was  not  long  in  comprehending  that  the 
hand  on  his  collar  meant  well  by  him.  He  deigned  to  fawn, 
and  meeting  his  glance  at  close  quarters,  I  read  his  dog-soul 
through  the  brook-brown  depths  of  the  clear  eyes.  After  that 
moment,  in  which  we  came  to  a  full  understanding  one  of  the 
other,  once  and  for  all,  I  knew  that  Tibe's  wrinkled  mask, 
his  terrible  mouth,  and  the  ferocious  tusks  standing  up  like 
two  stalagmites  in  the  black,  protruding  under  jaw,  disguised 
a  nature  almost  too  amiable  and  confiding  for  a  world  of 
hypocrites.  Tragic  fate,  to  seem  in  the  shallow  eyes  of  stran 
gers  a  monster  of  evil  from  whom  to  flee,  while  your  warm 
heart,  bursting  with  love  and  kindness,  sends  you  chasing 
those  who  avoid  you,  eager  to  demonstrate  affection !  Such  a 
fate  is  destined  to  be  Tibe's,  so  long  as  he  may  live;  but  in  this 
first  instant  of  our  real  acquaintance  he  felt  that  I  at  least  saw 
through  his  disguise;  and  under  the  nose  and  spectacles  of  his 
mistress  he  sealed  our  friendship  with  a  wet  kiss  on  my  sleeve. 

"Good  boy!"  said  I,  and  meant  it.  He  had  given  me  a 
character,  and  had  placed  me  upon  a  sound  footing  with  one 
who  would  be,  I  foresaw,  a  Power  on  "Lorelei." 

"Thank  you  so  much!"  said  she,  with  the  promised  burr-r 
so  pronounced  in  her  accent  that  she  must,  I  thought,  have 
spent  the  night  in  practising  it.  She  then  carefully  selected 
the  best  chair,  and  took  from  another  a  blue  silk  cushion  which 
matched  her  yachting-cap  and  veil. 


122  THE   CHAPERON 

As  she  sat  down,  making  a  footstool  of  Tibe,  and  displaying 
two  exquisitely  shod  feet  in  brand  new  suede  shoes,  Miss 
Rivers  appeared,  pale  and  interesting. 

"I  do  hope  you're  better,  my  poor  child,"  purred  the 
Chaperon. 

"Oh,  thank  you,  dear  Lady  MacNairne,  I  shall  be  quite 
right  now  we've  started. " 

This  interchange  of  civilities  told  that  the  Mariner's  "Aunt 
Fay"  had  already  contrived  to  ingratiate  herself  with  her 
charges. 

Miss  Rivers  sank  into  the  nearest  chair,  closing  her  eyes, 
while  I  stood  aloof  and  turned  the  wheel;  but  presently  the 
languid  lashes  lifted,  and  she  became  conscious  of  me.  Then 
her  eyes  grew  big.  She  remembered  me  from  the  day  at  the 
Prinzenhof,  or  the  Horse  Show,  perhaps.  Evidently  Starr  had 
not  named  me  yet,  nor  had  Miss  Van  Buren,  in  descending 
after  our  brief  encounter,  put  any  questions.  Whether  this 
boded  ill  or  well,  I  could  not  decide,  but  longed  to  get  suspense 
over;  and  I  was  not  kept  waiting. 

I  heard  Starr's  voice  below  urging  Miss  Van  Buren  on  deck. 
"Don't  bother  about  putting  everything  away,"  he  said.  "Do 
it  later.  You  must  say  good-by  to  Rotterdam.  Who  knows 
what  will  have  happened  to  us  before  we  get  back  ?" 

It  would  not  be  my  fault  if  two  of  the  party  were  not  en 
gaged,  I  was  thinking  hopefully,  as  Miss  Van  Buren 's  eyes  — 
rising  from  below  like  stars  above  a  dark  horizon  —  met 
mine.  There  was  no  recognition  in  them.  To  all  appearance 
oblivious  of  ever  having  seen  my  insignificant  features  on 
land  or  sea,  she  came  smiling  up,  on  the  friendliest  terms  with 
Starr. 

The  vacant  chair,  most  conveniently  placed  for  her,  was 
close  to  the  wheel,  and  I  hoped  that  she  would  take  it.  But 
rather  than  be  thus  trapped,  she  stepped  over  Tibe  and  push 
ed  past  her  stepsister  with  an  "I  beg  your  pardon,  dear." 


RUDOLPH  BREDERODE'S  POINT  OF  VIEW    123 

The  Mariner  gave  no  glance  at  me,  but  there  was  a  catch  in 
his  voice  which  betokened  a  twinkle  of  the  eye,  as  he  said  — 

"Aunt  Fay,  Miss  Van  Buren  and  Miss  Rivers,  I  must  in 
troduce  the  friend  I  told  you  about:  our  skipper,  Jonkheer 
Brederode." 

Miss  Rivers  smiled  delightfully,  with  just  such  a  flush  of 
ingenuous  surprise  as  I  should  have  liked  to  see  on  another 
face. 

"Why,  how  curious,"  she  exclaimed,  "that  you  should  be 
a  friend  of  Mr.  Starr's !  I  think  we  have  almost  met  Jonkheer 
Brederode  before,  haven't  we,  Nell  ?" 

"Have  we  ?"  sweetly  inquired  Miss  Van  Buren.  "I'm  a 
little  near-sighted,  and  I've  such  a  wretched  memory  for 
faces.  Unless  I  notice  people  particularly,  I  have  to  be  intro 
duced  at  least  twice  before  it  occurs  to  me  to  bow." 

"Oh,  but,  Nell,"  protested  Miss  Rivers.  "Surely  you  know 
we  saw  Mr.  —  no,  Jonkheer  Brederode  —  with  your  cousin 
at  the  Museum  in  Delft,  and  then  afterwards  you  — 

"People's  clothes  make  so  much  difference,"  remarked  Miss 
Van  Buren. 

"Oh,  but  I  wasn't  thinking  of  your  sea  adventure,  so  much 
as  when  Jonkheer  Brederode  rode  in  the  contest  — 

"I'm  afraid  I  was  looking  at  the  horses,"  cut  in  her  step 
sister. 

If  Robert  had  been  on  board  at  this  juncture  he  would 
probably  have  wished  to  box  his  cousin's  ears,  but  I  had  no 
such  desire,  though  mine  were  tingling.  In  fact,  I  should  have 
enjoyed  boxing  Robert's;  for  I  saw  that,  with  the  best  inten 
tions  in  the  world  (and  intentions  are  dangerous  weapons!), 
my  too-loyal  friend  had  in  some  way  contrived  to  make  me 
appear  insufferable.  Perhaps  he'd  given  the  impression  that 
I  had  boasted  an  intention  to  meet  her  within  a  given  time, 
and  she  took  this  for  my  brutal  way  of  carrying  out  the 
boast. 


124  THE   CHAPERON 

"What  is  a  Jonkheer?"  the  pseudo  Lady  MacNairne  de 
manded  of  Starr. 

"I  don't  know  exactly,"  he  admitted. 

"Don't  you  ?  But,  nephew  dear,  how  can  you  help  know 
ing,  when  you  have  an  old  friend  who  is  one  ?" 

(Was  there  a  spice  of  malice  in  this  question  ?) 

"You  see,  almost  ever  since  I've  known  him,  I've  thought 
of  him  as  Alb,"  Starr  explained  hastily.   "Alb  is  a  kind  of  - 
er  —  pet  name." 

"I  suppose  it  means  something  nice  in  Dutch,"  said  Miss 
Rivers,  in  the  soft,  pretty  way  she  has,  which  would  fain  make 
every  one  around  her  happy.  "But  I  think  Mr.  van  Buren 
told  us  that  *  Jonkheer'  was  like  our  baronet;  Jonkheer  in 
stead  of  *  Sir, '  isn't  it  ?" 

"Something  of  the  sort,"  I  answered. 

"It  sticks  in  the  throat,  if  you'll  excuse  me  for  saying  so, 
like  a  bit  of  crust,"  remarked  Aunt  Fay. 

"You  can  all  call  him  Alb,"  said  Starr. 

"Why  not  compromise  with  Skipper  ?"  asked  Miss  Van 
Buren,  looking  at  my  yachting-cap  (rather  a  nice  one)  with 
serene  impertinence.  "We  shall  probably  never  have  the  plea 
sure  of  knowing  him  on  land,  so  why  stumble  over  Dutch 
names  or  titles?  He  has  come  on  board  *  Lorelei'  to  be  our 
skipper,  hasn't  he  ?  So  he  would  probably  prefer  to  be  called 
'Skipper.'" 

Starr  leaned  down  to  pat  Tibe,  shaking  all  over.  "Ha,  ha, 
ha!"  he  gasped.  "I  never  saw  such  a  funny  tail;  I  do  hope 
it  isn't  going  to  give  me  hysterics." 

But  nobody  else  laughed,  and  Miss  Rivers  was  gazing  at 
her  stepsister  in  a  shocked,  questioning  way,  her  violet  eyes 
saying  as  plainly  as  if  they  spoke  — 

"My  darling  girl,  what  possesses  you  to  be  so  rude  to  an 
inoffensive  foreigner  ?" 

I  should  have  liked  to  ask  the  same  question,  in  the  same 


RUDOLPH  BREDERODE'S  POINT  OF  VIEW    125 

words;  but  I  said  nothing,  did  nothing  except  turn  the  wheel 
with  the  air  of  that  Miller  who  grinds  slowly  but  exceedingly 
small,  and  smile  a  hard,  confident  smile  which  warned  the 
enemy 

"Oh  yes,  you  are  going  to  know  me  on  land,  and  love  me 
on  land,  so  you  might  as  well  make  up  your  mind  to  what  has 
to  come." 

She  caught  the  look,  which  forcibly  dragged  hers  down 
from  my  hat-brim,  and  I  am  convinced  that  she  read  its 
meaning.  It  made  her  hate  me  a  degree  worse,  of  course; 
but  what  is  an  extra  stone  rolled  behind  the  doors  of  the 
resisting  citadel,  or  a  gallon  more  or  less  or  boiling  oil  to  dash 
on  the  heads  of  the  besiegers  ?  If  they  are  determined,  it 
comes  to  the  same  thing  in  the  end. 

Fortunately  for  the  spirits  of  the  other  players  who  were 
"on"  in  this  scene  (in  a  subordinate  capacity),  the  fair  Enemy 
was  not  of  the  nature  to  sulk.  True,  of  free  will  she  did  not 
address  me;  but  having  shown  her  opinion  of  and  intentions 
toward  the  person  deserving  punishment,  she  did  not  weary 
her  arm  with  continued  castigation.  Instead,  she  gave  herself 
up  heart  and  soul  to  delight  in  her  first  taste  of  "botoring." 
She  basked  in  it,  she  reveled  in  it;  had  she  been  a  kitten,  I 
think  she  would  have  purred  in  sheer  physical  enjoyment  of  it. 

"My  boat!  My  boat!"  she  repeated,  lingering  over  the 
words  as  if  they  had  been  cream  and  sugar.  "Oh,  I  wonder 
if  it  knows  it's  My  Boat  ?  I  wish  it  could.  I  should  like  it 
to  get  fond  of  me.  I  know  it's  alive.  Feel  its  heart  beat.  What 
Tibe  is  to  Lady  MacNairne,  '  Lorelei '  is  going  to  be  to  me. 
We  never  lived  before,  did  we,  Phil  ?  And  aren't  you  glad 
we  came  ?  Who  knows  what  will  become  of  us  after  this, 
for  we  certainly  never  can  go  home  again  and  take  up  life 
where  we  left  it  off." 

"You  shan't.  I'll  see  to  that,"  I  said  to  myself;  but  this 
time  she  was  not  looking  even  at  the  brim  of  my  cap.  Her 


126  .  THE   CHAPERON 

eyes,  luminous  with  childlike  happiness,  searched  and  photo 
graphed  each  new  feature  of  river-life  that  skimmed  swiftly 
past  us. 

"We  might  become  motor-boat  pirates,"  she  went  on. 
"There 'd  be  no  anti-climax  about  that;  and  I  dare  say  we 
could  make  a  living.  We'd  hoist  the  black  flag  whenever  we 
came  to  a  nice  lonely  stretch  of  water,  with  a  rich-looking 
barge  or  two,  or  a  fine  country  house  on  shore,  and  the  work 
would  begin.  Tibe  would  terrorize  our  victims.  But,  speaking 
of  the  black  flag,  I  see  the  star-spangled  banner  floats  o'er  the 
deck  of  the  free  and  the  cabins  of  the  brave.  How  charming 
of  you  to  think  of  putting  it  there,  Mr.  Starr !  It  would  never 
have  occurred  to  me." 

"It  would  have  been  charming,  if  it  had  occurred  to  me," 
said  the  Mariner;  "but  it  didn't." 

"Perhaps  our  skipper  can  explain  the  mystery,"  remarked 
the  Chaperon,  graciously. 

I  smiled.  "I  happened  to  have  the  little  silk  flag,"  said 
I,  "and  as  the  owner  of  the  boat  is  an  American,  I  took  the 
liberty  of  flying  her  colors  from  the  mast  to-day;  they  went 
up  early  this  morning.  But  we  have  another  flag  with  us  for 
emergencies  —  that  of  my  Sailing  and  Rowing  Club,  — 
which,  when  we  show  it,  will  give  us  the  right  to  enter  sluices 
—  or  locks,  as  you  call  them  —  ahead  of  anything  else." 

"Alb,  you  have  your  uses,"  observed  the  Mariner.  "Why 
can't  we  keep  your  flag  up  all  the  time  —  under  the  Stars  and 
Stripes  ?" 

"It  wouldn't  be  fair  to  make  use  of  it  except  in  extreme 
cases,"  I  said.  "All  these  lighter  and  bargemen  whom  we  see 
have  their  living  to  get.  Time's  money  to  them,  while  it's 
pleasure  to  us.  It's  right  that  they  should  get  through  ahead, 
when  they're  first  comers;  but  there  may  be  occasions  when 
we  shall  need  our  advantage;  and  till  then  I'll  keep  the  flag 
up  my  sleeve,  with  your  permission." 


RUDOLPH  BREDERODE'S  POINT  OF  VIEW    127 

"I  never  thought  to  feel  so  safe  on  a  motor-boat,"  exclaimed 
Miss  Rivers.  "Since  we  made  up  our  minds  to  come  —  or 
rather  Nell  made  up  hers  —  I've  added  another  prayer  to  those 
I've  been  accustomed  to  say  for  years  —  that  we  shouldn't 
blow  up,  or,  if  we  had  to  blow  up,  that  we  shouldn't  realize 
long  enough  beforehand  to  be  frightened ;  and  that  we  should 
blow  into  quite  little  pieces  which  couldn't  know  anything 
about  it  afterwards.  But  now  I've  such  a  peaceful  feeling,  I 
have  to  make  myself  remember  that  any  instant  may  be  my 
last." 

"I  wouldn't  try,"  said  Miss  Van  Buren.  "I  suppose,  when 
one  thinks  of  it,  worse  things  could  happen  to  one  on  a  motor- 
boat  than  in  a  motor-car,  because  there's  water  all  round; 
but  it  seems  so  heavenly  restful,  rather  like  motoring  in  heaven 
might  be,  and  no  frightened  horses,  or  barking  dogs,  or  street 
children  to  worry  you." 

"I  pity  people  on  steamboats,  just  as  the  other  day,  when 
we  motored,  I  pitied  people  in  stuffy  black  trains,"  said  Miss 
Rivers.  "But  I  don't  pity  the  people  on  lighters  and  barges. 
Don't  they  look  delightful  ?  I  should  love  to  live  on  that  one 
with  the  curly-tailed  red  lion  on  the  prow,  and  the  green  house 
with  white  embroidered  curtains  and  flower-pots,  and  sweet 
little  china  animals  in  the  windows.  It's  called  'Anna  Maria,' 
and  oh,  it's  worked  by  a  motor  !" 

"Lots  of  them  are,  nowadays,"  I  said.  "They're  easy  to 
rig  up,  and  save  work.  I  happen  to  know  '  Anna  Maria,'  and 
the  lady  she's  named  after,  who  lives  on  board  and  thinks  her 
self  the  happiest  woman  on  earth  —  or  water.  There  she  goes, 
on  her  way  to  the  kitchen,  with  her  baby  in  her  arms.  Pretty 
creatures  both,  aren't  they  ?" 

"Pictures!"  cried  Miss  Rivers;  and  her  stepsister,  who  at 
the  moment  was  being  particularly  nice  to  the  Mariner  (I 
fancy  by  way  of  showing  the  Outcast  how  nice  she  can  be  — 
to  others) ,  glanced  up  from  a  map  of  Holland,  which  Starr  had 


128  THE   CHAPERON 

opened,  across  his  knees.  "It's  like  a  very  young  Madonna  and 
Child,  painted  by  a  Dutch  master.  I  wish  you  could  intro 
duce  us." 

"Perhaps  I  will,  when  we  come  back  this  way,"  said  I. 
"You  shall  go  on  board  and  have  tea  with  Anna  Maria  and 
her  baby,  and  the  husband  too,  who's  as  good-looking  as  the 
rest  of  the  family.  They  would  be  delighted,  and  proud  to 
show  off  their  floating  home,  which  saved  Anna  Maria's 
life." 

"How  ?  It  sounds  like  a  story." 

"So  it  is  —  a  humble  romance.  Anna  Maria's  the  daughter 
of  a  bargeman,  and  was  born  and  brought  up  on  a  barge. 
When  she  was  seventeen  and  keeping  house-boat  for  her 
father  (the  mother  died  when  she  was  a  child)  the  poor  man 
had  an  accident,  and  was  drowned.  There  wasn't  much  money 
saved  up  for  Anna  Maria,  so  the  barge  was  sold,  and  she  had 
to  live  on  dry  land,  and  learn  how  to  be  a  dressmaker.  She 
was  as  miserable  as  a  goldfish  would  be  if  you  took  it  out  of 
its  bowl  and  laid  it  on  the  table.  In  a  few  months  she'd  fallen 
into  a  decline,  and  though,  just  at  that  time,  she  met  a  dashing 
young  chauffeur,  who  took  a  fancy  to  her  pretty,  pale  face, 
even  love  wasn't  strong  enough  to  save  her.  The  chauffeur, 
poor  fellow,  thought  there  was  no  flower  in  the  garden  of 
girls  as  sweet  as  his  white  snowdrop.  He  felt,  if  he  could  only 
afford  to  buy  a  lighter  for  himself,  they  might  marry,  and  the 
bride's  life  might  be  saved.  But  it  was  out  of  the  question,  and 
perhaps  the  idyl  would  have  ended  in  tragedy,  had  he  not 
confided  his  troubles  to  his  master.  That  master,  as  it  happen 
ed,  had  a  lighter  which  he'd  fitted  up  with  a  motor.  He'd 
used  it  all  summer,  and  got  his  money's  worth  of  fun  out  of  it; 
so  when  he  heard  the  story,  he  told  the  chauffeur  he  would 
give  him  the  thing  as  it  stood,  for  a  wedding  present,  and  it 
must  be  rechristened  '  Anna  Maria.' 

"What  a  lamb  of  a  master!  I  quite  love  him!"  exclaimed 


RUDOLPH  BREDERODE'S  POINT  OF  VIEW  129 
Miss  Van  Buren,  before  she  remembered  that  she  was  talking 
to  One  beyond  the  Pale. 

"There  wasn't  much  merit;  he  was  tired  of  his  toy,"  I 
answered  carelessly;  but  I  felt  my  face  grow  red. 

"I  don't  believe  it  a  bit.  He  just  said  that,"  cried  Miss 
Rivers.  "I  should  love  him  too.  Is  he  a  Dutchman  ?" 

"I  shouldn't  be  surprised  if  he  was  half  English,  half 
Dutch,"  remarked  Starr,  good-naturedly. 

"Or  if  he  was  making  our  wheel  go  round  now,"  finished 
Aunt  Fay,  pulling  Tibe's  ear. 

"Oh!"  said  Miss  Van  Buren,  and  buried  her  nose  in  the 
map. 

She  and  Starr  were  tracing,  or  pretending  to  trace,  our 
route  to  Gouda,  whither  we  were  going,  and  where  we  ex 
pected  to  lunch.  Hurriedly  she  threw  herself  into  a  discussion 
with  him  as  to  whether  we  were  now  in  the  Lek  or  the  Maas. 
Reason  said  Maas,  but  the  map  said  Lek,  though  it  was  a 
thing,  thought  the  lady,  about  which  there  could  be  no  two 
opinions;  it  must  be  one  or  the  other. 

As  a  matter  of  fact,  there  are  many  opinions,  and  as  I  knew 
the  history  of  the  dispute,  after  all  she  had  to  turn  to  me,  and 
listen.  I  talked  to  Starr,  and  at  her,  explaining  how  only 
experts  could  tell  one  river  from  another  here,  and  even  ex 
perts  differed. 

"Our  waters  are  split  up  into  so  many  channels  that  they're 
as  difficult  to  separate  one  from  the  other  as  the  twisted 
strands  in  a  plait  of  hair,"  said  I.  "It  was  like  Napoleon's 
colossal  cheek,  wasn't  it,  to  claim  the  Netherlands  for 
France,  because  they  were  formed  from  the  alluvium  of 
French  rivers  ?" 

Instantly  the  Chaperon  ceased  to  admire  Tibe's  new  and 
expensive  collar,  and  opened  a  silver  chain  bag,  also  glittering 
with  newness,  which  she  had  in  her  lap.  From  this  she  brought 
forth  a  note-book  of  Russia  leather,  and  began  to  write  with  a 


130  THE   CHAPERON 

stylographic  pen,  which  had  dangled  in  a  gold  case  on  a  richly 
furnished  chatelaine.  This  little  lady  had  "done"  herself 
well  since  yesterday. 

"I  shall  take  notes  of  everything,"  she  announced.  "That 
bit  about  Napoleon  goes  down  first." 

"Surely  you  knew,  Aunt  Fay,"  said  the  Mariner,  with  a 
warning  in  his  lifted  eyebrows. 

"I  don't  know  anything  about  Holland,  except  that  it's 
flat  and  wet,"  she  replied,  defying  him,  as  she  can  afford  to  do, 
now  that,  once  an  aunt,  she  must  be  always  an  aunt,  as  far  as 
this  tour  is  concerned.  "It's  not  the  fashion  in  my  part  of 
Scotland  for  ladies  of  position  to  know  things  about  foreign 
countries  they've  not  visited.  It's  considered  frumpish,  and 
though  I  may  not  be  as  young  as  I  once  was,  I  am  not  frump 
ish." 

She  certainly  is  not.  The  real  Lady  MacNairne  does  not 
dress  as  smartly,  or  have  such  an  air  of  Parisian  elegance  as  this 
mysterious  little  upstart  has  put  on  since  assuming  her  part. 
Save  for  the  gray  hair  and  the  hideous  glasses,  there  could 
scarcely  be  a  daintier  figure  than  that  of  the  Mariner's  false 
Aunt  Fay. 

"However,"  she  went  on,  "my  doctor  has  recommended 
a  tonic,  and  I  shouldn't  wonder  if  a  spice  of  information 
might  be  a  mental  stimulant.  Anyhow,  I  intend  to  try  it,  and 
ask  questions  of  everybody  about  everything. " 

All  this  she  said  with  a  quaint,  bird-like  air,  and  I  began  to 
be  impressed  with  the  curious  fascination  which  emanates 
from  this  strange,  small  person.  I  am  in  her  secret.  I  know  she 
is  a  fraud,  though  of  all  else  concerning  her  I  am  in  ignorance 
-  perhaps  blissful  ignorance.  I  have  none  too  much  respect 
for  the  little  wretch,  despite  her  gray  hairs;  yet,  somehow,  I 
felt  at  this  moment  that  I  was  on  her  side.  I  was  afraid  that, 
if  she  asked  any  favor  of  me,  I  should  run  to  do  it;  and  I  could 
imagine  myself  being  ass  enough  to  quail  before  the  mite's 


RUDOLPH  BREDERODE'S  POINT  OF  VIEW    131 

Liliputian  displeasure.  As  for  Starr,  I  could  see  that  he 
dared  not  say  his  soul  was  his  own,  if  she  laid  claim  to  it. 
He  might  raise  his  eyebrows,  or  telegraph  with  his  eyelids,  but 
a  certain  note  in  that  crisp,  youthful-sounding  voice,  would 
reduce  him  to  complete  subjection,  in  what  our  German  cou 
sins  call  an  augenblick.  No  wonder  that  Tiberius  —  who 
looks  as  if  he  could  play  lion  to  her  martyr  without  a  single 
rehearsal  —  fawns,  crawls,  and  wriggles  like  the  merest 
puppy  at  the  lifting  of  her  tiny  finger,  when  she  wills  —  as  is 
seldom — to  be  obeyed  by  him.  All  must  feel  the  same  queer 
power  in  the  woman,  be  we  dogs  or  men. 

"Well,  I'm  glad  you  got  your  country  back  from  Napoleon," 
said  Miss  Rivers.  "Nobody,  except  the  Dutch,  could  have 
made  it  so  cozy,  so  radiantly  clean  and  comfortable.  Dear 
little  Holland!" 

I  laughed.  "Dear  little  Holland !  Yes,  that's  the  way  you 
all  pet  and  patronize  our  Hollow  Land,  and  chuck  it  under 
the  chin,  so  to  speak.  You  think  of  it  as  a  nice  little  toy  coun 
try,  to  come  and  play  with,  and  laugh  at  for  its  quaintness. 
And  why  shouldn't  you  ?  But  it  strikes  us  Netherlanders  as 
funny,  that  point  of  view  of  yours,  if  we  have  a  sense  of  hu 
mor  —  and  we  have,  sometimes !  You  see,  we've  a  good 
memory  for  our  past.  We  know  what  we're  built  upon. 

"Think  of  the  making  of  Holland,  though  I  grant  you  it's 
difficult,  when  you  look  at  this  peaceful  landscape;  but  try  to 
call  up  something  as  different  as  darkness  is  to  light.  Forget 
the  river,  and  the  houses,  and  the  pretty  branching  canals,  and 
see  nothing  but  marshes,  wild  and  terrible,  with  sluggish 
rivers  crawling  through  mud-banks  to  the  sea,  beaten  back  by 
fierce  tides,  to  overflow  into  oozy  meers  and  stagnant  pools. 
Think  of  raging  winds,  never  still,  the  howling  of  seas,  and 
the  driving  of  pitiless  rains.  No  other  views  but  those,  and  no 
definite  forms  rising  out  of  the  water  save  great  forest  trees, 
growmg  so  densely  that  no  daylight  shines  through  the  black 


132  THE   CHAPERON 

roof  of  branches.  Imagine  the  life  of  our  forefathers,  who  fled 
here  from  an  existence  so  much  more  dreadful  that  they  clung 
to  the  mud-banks  and  fought  for  them,  a  never-ending  battle 
with  the  sea.  That  was  the  beginning  of  the  Netherlands,  as  it 
was  of  Venice,  and  the  fugitives  built  as  the  Venetians  built, 
on  piles,  with  wattles.  If  you've  seen  Venice,  you'll  often  be 
reminded  of  it  here.  And  what  rest  have  we  had  since  those 
beginnings  ?  If  not  fighting  the  sea,  we  had  to  fight  Spain 
and  England,  and  even  now  our  battles  aren't  over.  They 
never  will  be,  while  we  keep  our  heads  above  water.  Every 
hour  of  every  day  and  night  some  one  is  fighting  to  save  the 
Netherlands  from  the  fate  of  Atlantis.  While  her  men  fight 
she's  safe;  but  if  they  rested,  this  'peaceful,  comfortable  little 
country*  would  be  blotted  out  under  the  waters,  as  so  many 
provinces  vanished  under  the  Zuider  Zee  in  the  thirteenth 
century,  and  others,  at  other  times,  have  been  swept  away." 

"Do  you  think  our  motor-boat  could  ride  on  the  flood, 
and  drag  '  Waterspin,'  if  any  of  the  most  important  dykes  or 
dams  happened  to  burst  ?"  inquired  the  Chaperon.  "I  hope 
so,  for  what  you've  been  saying  makes  one  feel  exactly  like  a 
female  member  of  the  Ark  party. " 

Everybody  laughed;  but  her  joke  pricked  me  to  shame  of 
my  harangue. 

"Nothing  will  'happen  to  burst,'  ;'  I  assured  her.  "We 
Dutch  don't  lose  our  sleep  over  such  '  ifs.'  Every  country 
has  something  to  dread,  hasn't  it  ?  Drought  in  India,  earth 
quakes  in  Italy,  cyclones  and  blizzards  in  America,  and  so  on. 
Our  menace  is  water;  but  then,  it's  our  friend  as  well  as  foe, 
and  we've  subdued  it  to  our  daily  uses,  as  every  canal  we  pass 
can  prove.  Besides,  there's  something  else  we're  able  to  do 
with  it.  The  popular  belief  is  that,  at  Amsterdam,  one  key  is 
kept  in  the  central  arsenal  which  can  instantly  throw  open 
sluices  to  inundate  the  whole  country  in  case  we  should  be  in 
danger  of  invasion." 


RUDOLPH  BREDERODE'S  POINT  OF  VIEW    133 

"But  you'd  drown  your  land  and  yourselves,  as  well  as  the 
enemy,"  exclaimed  Aunt  Fay. 

"Better  drown  than  lose  the  liberty  we've  paid  for  with  so 
much  blood.  The  old  spirit's  in  us  still,  I  hope,  though  we 
may  seem  slow-going,  comfort-loving  fellows  in  everyday  life. 
When  we  make  up  our  minds  to  do  a  thing,  we're  prepared  to 
suffer  for  the  sake  of  carrying  it  through." 

Again  I  met  Miss  Van  Buren's  eyes,  and  I  think  she  realized 
that  I  am  typically  Dutch. 


XI 

ROTTERDAM  lay  far  behind  us  now.  We'd  passed 
the  busy,  crowded  water-thoroughfares,  as  thickly 
lined  with  barges  and  lighters  as  streets  with 
houses,  and  were  nearing  the  point  where  the  river, 
disguised  as  the  Issel,  turns  with  many  curves  toward  Gouda. 
We  had  a  few  whiffs  from  brickfields  and  other  ugly  indus 
tries  that  scar  the  banks,  but  the  windings  of  the  Issel  bore  us 
swiftly  to  regions  of  grassy  meadows,  and  waving  reeds, 
threatening  sometimes  to  lose  us  in  strange  no-thoroughfares 
of  water  more  like  separate  lakes  and  round  ponds,  than  the 
flowing  reaches  of  a  river. 

Here  the  despised  Albatross  was  worth  his  weight  in  gold. 
In  charge  of  a  skipper  not  familiar  with  every  foot  of  the  water- 
road,  "Lorelei"  and  "Waterspin"  would  have  been  aground 
more  than  once.  Even  that  irresponsible  head-among-the-stars 
Mariner  guessed  at  the  snares  we  avoided,  and  flung  me  a  word 
of  appreciation. 

"You're  earning  your  salt,"  said  he,  "and  you  shall  have  a 
little  at  Gouda." 

But  as  to  Gouda,  a  struggle  was  going  on  between  my 
inclination  and  my  conscience.  It  was  my  duty  as  skipper  to 
take  "Lorelei"  through  the  town  that  she  might  be  ready  to 
start  from  the  other  side  after  luncheon.  There  would  be  de 
lays  at  swing-bridges,  and  time  would  be  lost  if  the  party  re 
mained  on  board,  and  tried  to  see  the  place  afterwards.  If  I 
trusted  Hendrik  to  act  as  captain  and  chauffeur  in  one,  some 
thing  would  go  wrong,  and  I  should  be  blamed.  Neverthe 
less,  I  did  not  relish  the  thought  of  seeing  Starr  march  off  in 

134 


RUDOLPH  BREDERODE'S  POINT  OF  VIEW    135 

triumph  with  the  ladies  while  I  remained  behind  to  work,  and 
lunch  on  a  cheese  sandwich.  I  was  tempted  to  shift  responsi 
bility  upon  Hendrik's  shoulders  to-day,  and  on  other  days  to 
come;  but  as  we  slowed  up  for  the  sluice,  or  lock,  something 
inside  me  would  have  no  self-indulgence.  To  be  sure,  I  am 
playing  my  part  for  a  purpose,  but  while  I  play  it,  I  must 
play  well;  and  it  was  the  conscientious  captain  who  advised 
his  passengers  to  get  out,  told  them  how  to  find  the  best  inn, 
and  what  they  were  to  see  when  they  had  lunched. 

"The  hotel  is  in  the  Markt  Platz,"  I  said,  "and  you  must 
have  a  good  look  at  the  old  Weigh  House  while  you're  on  the 
spot.  It  will  be  your  first  Weigh  House,  and  it's  really  a  good 
one,  with  a  splendid  relief  by  Eggers,  and  a  delightful  outside 
staircase.  Then  there's  the  Stadhuis,  too,  and  it  you  care  for 
old  stained  glass,  the  work  of  the  brothers  Crabeth  in  the 
Groote  Kerk  — 

"But  aren't  you  going  with  us  ?"  asked  Miss  Rivers. 

I  explained  why  I  could  not. 

"Oh  dear,  and  we  can't  speak  Dutch!"  she  sighed.  "Fancy 
a  procession  straggling  through  a  strange  town,  wanting  to 
know  everything,  and  not  able  to  utter  a  word." 

"Nonsense,  Phil,  we  can  get  on  perfectly  well,"  said  Miss 
Van  Buren,  mutinous-eyed.  "I've  learned  things  out  of  the 
phrase-book.  You  can't  expect  a  skipper  to  be  a  guide  as 
well." 

This  was  a  stab,  and  I  think  it  pleased  her;  but  I  laughed. 

"I  shall  often  be  able  to  go  with  you,  I  hope,  Miss  Rivers," 
I  said.  "In  many  places  the  boat  will  start  from  the  same 
spot  where  she  gets  in;  then  I  shall  be  free  and  at  your  ser 
vice." 

I  had  to  see  them  off  without  me,  Miss  Van  Buren  walking 
with  Starr;  and  the  only  one  who  threw  me  a  backward 
glance  was  Tibe.  But  the  task  I  had  before  me  was  easier 
than  I  expected.  There  were  fewer  barges  in  waiting  than  on 


136  THE   CHAPERON 

most  days.  Here  and  there  a  tip  to  a  bridge-master  (a  gulden 
stuck  conspicuously  in  my  eye,  like  a  silver  monocle,  just 
long  enough  to  suggest  a  different  destination)  worked  won 
ders,  and  in  an  hour  I  had  piloted  "Lorelei"  through  the  water- 
streets  of  Gouda,  ready  to  take  her  passengers  again  on  the 
Leiden  side.  Standing  at  the  wheel,  I  had  eaten  a  sandwich 
and  drunk  a  glass  of  beer  brought  by  Hendrik,  so  there  was 
no  need  to  seek  food  in  the  town.  The  others,  having  finished 
lunch,  would  have  begun  sight-seeing,  and  if  I  strolled  to  the 
Groote  Kerk,  it  was  just  possible  I  might  find  something  even 
more  desirable  than  the  exquisite  glass. 

"They'll  have  saved  the  church  for  the  last,"  I  said  to 
myself.  "I  should  like  to  see  her  face  while  she  looks  at  the 
Haarlem  window." 

I  could  not  have  calculated  more  exactly,  had  we  made  an 
appointment.  As  I  arrived  within  sight  of  the  verger's  door, 
I  saw  the  party  going  in.  There  was  a  moment's  pause,  and 
then  all  save  one  disappeared.  That  figure  was  Starr's,  and  he 
was  left  in  charge  of  the  dog. 

"Hullo !"  he  exclaimed,  "you're  just  in  time." 

"Yes,"  said  I.  "Clever,  wasn't  I  ?" 

"I  mean  in  time  to  play  with  this  brute,  while  I  go  in. 
He'll  be  pleased  with  the  exchange;  besides,  you've  seen  the 
church  and  I  haven't. " 

"I've  never  seen  it  in  such  companionship." 

"Callous-hearted  Albatross !  You'll  unconsecrate  the  church 
for  Miss  Van  Buren.  Can't  you  see  she'll  have  none  of  you  ?" 

"I  shall  need  the  more  time  to  make  her  change  her  mind. 
Every  minute  counts.  Au  revoir.  Don't  let  Tibe  escape,  or 
I  pity  you  with  your  aunt" 

"I  wish  he'd  jump  into  the  nearest  canal.  Look  here, 
Gouda's  a  fraud.  We've  had  a  loathsome  lunch  —  cold  ham 
and  pappy  bread  —  with  paper  napkins,  and  the  whole  meal 
served  on  one  plate,  by  a  female  even  my  aunt  was  afraid 


RUDOLPH  BREDERODE'S  POINT  OF  VIEW    137 

of.  There  isn't  a  cow  within  miles,  much  less  a  cow  with  a 
coat- 

"Perhaps  one  may  pass  while  you  wait.  Ta,  ta.  Your  turn 
will  come  soon*"  And  I  left  him  glaring  at  Tibe  and  muttering 
threats  of  revenge  against  me. 

All  the  windows  of  the  Gouda  church  are  beautiful,  but 
the  Haarlem  window  would  warm  the  coldest  heart,  and  I 
was  not  surprised  to  find  Miss  Van  Buren  already  gazing  at 
it,  a  lovely  light  streaming  through  the  old  glass  upon  her  up 
lifted  face.  She  is  a  girl  to  find  out  the  best  things  at  once,  by 
instinct. 

There  she  stood,  lost  in  delight,  and  when  I,  assuming 
more  boldness  than  I  felt,  walked  quietly  across  the  church 
and  stopped  close  behind  her,  she  thre*w  just  enough  of  a 
look  at  the  new-comer  to  see  that  it  was  a  tallish  man  in 
gray. 

"Is  that  you,  Mr.  Starr?"  she  asked;  but  sure  that  no 
stranger  would  approach  so  near,  and  believing  me  at  a  safe 
distance,  she  took  the  answer  for  granted.  "What  a  fairyland 
in  glass  there  is  in  this  church !"  she  went  on,  joyously.  "What 
skies,  and  backgrounds  of  medieval  castles  and  towers,  and 
what  luminous  colors.  I'd  love  to  be  one  of  those  little  red 
and  yellowT  men  looking  out  of  the  tower  at  the  battle  go 
ing  on  below,  among  the  queer  ships  wallowing  in  the  crisp 
weaves,  and  live  always  in  that  fantastic  glass  country.  I  want 
to  know  what's  inside  the  tower,  don't  you  ?  Which  man  will 
you  choose  to  be  ?" 

"The  one  on  your  right  side,"  said  I,  quietly. 

Then  she  whisked  round,  and  blushed  with  vexation. 

"That  you  could  never  be,"  she  flung  at  me,  and  walked 
away;  but  I  followed. 

"Won't  you  tell  me  why  ?"  I  asked.  "What  have  I  done 
to  offend  you  ?" 

"If  you  don't  know,  I  couldn't  make  you  understand." 


138  THE   CHAPERON 

"Perhaps  it's  you  who  don't  understand.  But  you  will, 
some  day." 

"Oh,  I've  no  curiosity." 

"Am  I  spoiling  your  trip  ?" 

"I'm  not  going  to  let  you. " 

"Thanks.  Then  you'd  better  let  me  help  to  make  it  pleas- 
anter.  I  can,  in  many  ways." 

"I  don't  need  help  in  enjoying  Holland.  I  intend  to  enjoy 
it  every  instant,  in  —  in  — 

"Won't  you  finish?" 

"In  spite  of  you." 

"I  vow  it  shall  be  partly  because  of  me." 

"You're  very  fond  of  vowing." 

Then,  at  last,  I  knew  where  I  stood.  I  knew  that  Robert 
had  said  something. 

Into  the  midst  of  this  crisis  dropped  Miss  Rivers.  No  doubt 
she  had  seen  the  expression  on  our  faces,  and  intervened  in 
pure  good-heartedness  to  snatch  me  as  a  brand  from  the 
burning;  for  she  threw  herself  into  talk  about  the  church, 
crying  out  against  the  hideous  havoc  we  Protestants  had 
wrought  with  whitewash  and  crude  woodwork. 

"I'm  not  Catholic,  not  a  bit  Catholic,  though  I  may  be 
a  little  high  church;  but  I  couldn't  have  spoiled  everything 
just  for  the  sake  of  getting  a  place  to  worship  in,  cheap, 
without  having  to  put  up  a  new  building.  Why,  it's  like 
murder  !" 

Then  my  lady  flashed  out  at  her  unexpectedly,  and  saved 
me  an  answer. 

"Where's  your  imagination,  Phil  ?  It  must  have  gone  wool 
gathering,  or  you  could  put  yourself  into  the  place  of  these 
people  and  see  why  they  tore  away  the  pictures  and  statues, 
and  hid  every  bit  of  color  with  whitewash.  I  love  beauty, 
but  I  would  have  done  as  they  did.  Color  in  churches  was  to 
them  the  life-blood  of  their  nearest  and  dearest,  splashed 


RUDOLPH  BREDERODE'S  POINT  OF  VIEW    139 

upon  the  walls.  Those  statues,  those  pictured  saints  they 
pulled  down  or  covered  up,  had  smiled  on  persecution.  They 
had  to  have  a  kind  of  frenzied  house-cleaning  to  get  out 
the  smell  of  incense.  Oh,  I  know  how  they  felt  when  they 
did  it,  as  if  I'd  been  here  myself  with  a  broom  full  of  white 
wash." 

"Perhaps  some  ancestress  of  yours  was  here,  and  did  some 
sweeping,"  said  I.  But  it  was  a  mistake  for  me  to  speak. 
She  froze  in  an  instant,  and  suggested  that  if  everybody  had 
seen  enough,  we  should  go  out  and  give  "poor  Mr.  Starr  a 
chance." 

"I'll  stop  and  show  him  the  Haarlem  window,"  said  she. 
And  I  hated  Starr.  Perhaps  that  was  the  state  of  mind  she 
wished  to  create;  at  all  events  her  eyes  retained  the  exaltation 
of  the  whitewashing.  Nor  should  I  wonder  if  those  two  en 
joyed  the  thought  that  I  was  kept  waiting  outside,  as  much 
as  they  enjoyed  roaming  together  in  "glass  country." 

In  any  case,  they  stayed  so  long  that  we  were  able  to  visit 
a  shop  near  by,  and  come  back,  before  they  reappeared.  It 
was  a  nice  shop,  where  sweets  and  cakes  were  sold,  especially 
the  rich  treacle  "cookies,"  for  which  Gouda  is  celebrated. 
There  was  much  gold-bright  brass;  there  were  jars  and  boxes 
painted  curiously;  and  we  were  served  by  an  apple-cheeked 
old  lady  in  a  white  cap,  whom  Miss  Rivers  and  the  Chaperon 
thought  adorable.  We  bought  hopjes  as  well  as  cookies,  be 
cause  they  wanted  to  make  acquaintance  with  the  national 
sweets  of  Holland ;  and  afterwards,  when  Miss  Van  Buren  was 
given  some,  she  pronounced  them  nothing  but  "the  caramel- 
lest  caramels"  she  had  ever  tasted. 

She  and  Starr  had  developed  a  pleasant  private  under 
standing,  which  comprised  jokes  too  subtle  to  be  understood 
by  outsiders;  and  as  the  Mariner  and  I  were  shoulder  to 
shoulder  for  a  moment  on  our  way  back  to  the  boat,  he  gave 
me  a  look  charged  with  meaning. 


140  THE   CHAPERON 

"Who  laughs  last,  laughs  best,"  he  quoted;  and  inwardly  I 
could  not  but  agree,  though  I  shrugged  my  shoulders. 

Tibe  attracted  enormous  attention  in  Gouda.  As  we  walked 
along  shady  streets,  lit  by  the  clear  shining  of  canals,  children 
ran  after  us  as  at  Hamlin  they  ran  after  the  Pied  Piper.  If  for 
one  instant  the  strangers  paused  to  study  a  beautiful,  carved 
door,  or  to  peer  into  the  window  of  an  antiquary's  at  blue  and 
white  jars,  or  to  gaze  up  at  the  ferocious  head  of  a  Turk  over 
a  chemist's  shop,  or  to  laugh  at  a  house  with  window-blinds 
painted  in  red  and  white  diamonds,  a  crowd  of  flaxen  heads 
collected  round  us,  little  hands  fluttered  over  the  dog's  wrink 
led  head  as  butterflies  flit  about  a  clover  blossom,  baby  laugh 
ter  tinkled,  and  tiny  shrieks  cut  the  stillness  of  the  sleepy, 
summer  afternoon. 

It  was  all  so  dream-like  to  Miss  Van  Buren  that  she  declared 
incredulity  in  Holland's  real  existence.  "There  is  -no  such  coun 
try,"  she  said,  "and  worse  than  all,  I  have  no  motor-boat." 

Nevertheless,  a  shape  which  closely  resembled  "Lorelei" 
was  floating  like  a  white  water-lily  on  a  green  calyx  of  canal,  in 
the  place  where  I  had,  or  dreamed  that  I  had,  left  her  an  hour 
ago.  And  having  assembled  on  board  that  white  apparition, 
we  started,  or  dreamed  that  we  started  for  Leiden  —  a  place 
where  I  hoped  to  score  a  point  or  two  with  my  lady. 

The  boisterous  wind  of  the  early  morning  had  dropped  at 
noon,  leaving  the  day  hot  and  unrefreshed,  with  no  breath  of 
air  stirring.  But  on  the  water,  traveling  at  eight  or  nine  miles 
an  hour,  we  forgot  the  heavy  July  heat  which  on  shore  had 
burned  our  faces.  They  were  fanned  by  a  constant  breeze  of 
our  own  making  which  tossed  us  a  bouquet  of  perfume  from 
flowery  fields  as  we  slipped  by,  the  only  sound  in  our  ears  the 
cry  of  sea-going  gulls  overhead,  and  the  delicate  fluting  of  the 
water  as  our  bows  shattered  its  crystals  among  pale,  shimmery 
sedges  and  tall  reeds. 

Tiny  canals  of  irrigation  wandered  like  azure  veins  through 


RUDOLPH  BREDERODE'S  POINT  OF  VIEW    141 

a  maze  of  blossoming  pink  and  gold  in  the  sun-bright  mea 
dows,  and  as  far  as  the  most  sweeping  glance  could  reach,  the 
horizon  seemed  pinned  down  to  earth  with  windmills. 

Suddenly  the  land  lay  far  below  the  level  of  the  canal,  and 
people  walking  in  the  main  streets  of  villages,  behind  the 
dykes,  were  visible  for  us  only  as  far  as  their  knees.  Quaint 
little  houses  had  sat  themselves  down  close  to  the  water's  edge, 
as  if  determined  to  miss  no  detail  of  canal  gossip;  and  from 
their  bright  windows,  like  brilliant  eyes,  they  watched  the 
water  with  a  curious  expression  of  self-satisfaction  and  con 
tentment  on  their  painted,  wooden  faces.  On  verandas,  half 
as  big  as  the  houses  themselves,  the  life  of  the  family  went  on. 
Children  played,  young  girls  wrote  letters  to  their  lovers; 
mothers  busily  worked  sewing-machines,  but  saw  everything 
that  passed  on  the  water;  fathers  read  newspapers,  and  white- 
haired  old  grandpapas  nodded  over  long-stemmed  pipes. 
Every  garden  blazed  with  color;  and  close-planted  rows  of 
trees,  with  their  branches  cut  and  trained  (as  Miss  Van  Buren 
said)  "flat  as  trees  for  paper  dolls,"  shaded  the  upper  windows 
of  the  toy  mansions. 

Little  things  which  were  matters  of  every  day  for  me  in 
this  country  so  characteristic  of  the  Netherlands,  tickled  the 
fancy  of  the  strangers,  and  kept  them  constantly  exclaiming. 
The  extravagantly  polished  wood  of  the  house  doors;  the  lift 
ing  cranes  protruding  from  the  gables;  the  dairymen  in  boats, 
with  their  shining  pails;  the  bridges  that  pivoted  round  to  let 
us  pass  through;  the  drawbridges  that  opened  in  the  middle 
and  swung  up  with  leisured  dignity;  the  bridgeman  in  sorrel- 
colored  coats,  collecting  tolls  in  battered  wooden  shoes  sus 
pended  from  long  lines;  the  dogs  (which  they  call  "Spitz"  and 
are  really  Kees)  who  barked  ferociously  at  our  motor,  from 
every  barge  and  lighter;  the  yellow  carts  with  black,  bonnet- 
like  hoods,  from  which  peasant  heads  peered  curiously  out  at 
us,  from  shore;  and,  above  all,  the  old  women  or  young 


142  THE   CHAPERON 

children  with  ropes  across  their  breasts,  straining  to  tow 
enormous  barges  like  great  dark,  following  whales. 

"What  can  Dutchmen  be  like  to  let  them  do  it,  while  they 
loaf  on  board  ?"  Miss  Van  Buren  flashed  at  me,  as  if  I  were 
responsible  for  the  faults  of  all  my  male  countrymen. 

"It  isn't  exactly  loafing  to  steer  those  big  barges,"  said  I. 
"And  the  whole  family  take  turns,  anywhere  between  the  ages 
of  ten  and  a  hundred.  They  don't  know  what  hard  work  it  is, 
because  nobody  has  told  them,  and  our  river  people  are  among 
the  most  contented." 

Starr  was  interested  in  seeing  me  salute  the  men  of  passing 
craft,  and  in  their  grave  return  of  the  courtesy.  Soon,  he 
tould  imitate  my  motion,  though  he  exaggerated  it  slightly, 
letting  his  arm  float  gracefully  out  to  full  length  before  it  came 
back  to  his  cap,  somewhat,  as  he  remarked,  "like  a  lily-stem 
blown  by  the  wind."  When  he  had  got  the  knack  he  was  en 
chanted,  and  every  yacht,  sail-boat,  lighter,  and  barge  had  a 
theatrical  greeting  from  him  as  it  slipped  silently  past,  perhaps 
never  to  be  seen  again  by  our  eyes. 

"But  are  they  happy  ?"  he  asked.  "You  never  hear  bursts 
of  laughter,  or  chattering  of  voices,  as  you  would  in  other 
countries.  The  youngest  children's  faces  are  grave,  while  as 
for  the  men,  they  look  as  if  they  were  paid  so  much  a  day  not 
to  shed  a  smile,  and  were  mighty  conscientious  about  earning 
their  money.  Yet  you  say  they're  contented." 

"We  Dutch  are  a  reserved  people,"  I  explained,  under 
Miss  Van  Buren's  critical  gaze.  "We  don't  make  much  noise 
when  we're  glad,  or  sad ;  and  it  takes  something  funny  to  make 
us  laugh.  We  don't  do  it  to  hear  the  sound  of  our  own  voices, 
but  prefer  to  rest  our  features  and  our  minds. " 

"Some  of  these  bargemen  look  as  if  they'd  rested  their  minds 
so  much  that  vegetables  had  grown  on  them,"  mused  Starr, 
which  made  Miss  Van  Buren  giggle;  and  somehow  I  was 
angry  with  her  for  finding  wit  in  his  small  sallies. 


RUDOLPH  BREDERODE'S  POINT  OF  VIEW    143 

"You'll  discover  on  this  trip  that  as  you  treat  the  Dutch,  so 
will  they  treat  you,"  I  went  on.  "If  you're  impatient,  they'll 
be  rude;  if  you  show  contempt,  they'll  pay  you  back  in  the 
same  coin;  but  if  you're  polite  and  considerate  there's  nothing 
they  won't  do  for  you  in  their  quiet  way. " 

"We  shall  never  be  rude  to  any  of  them,  shall  we,  Nell  ?" 
said  Miss  Rivers. 

"Not  unless  they  deserve  it,"  came  back  the  answer.  And 
I  knew  what  Dutchman  in  particular  Miss  Van  Buren  had  in 
mind. 

It  was  about  two  hours  from  Gouda  when  a  blaze  of  color 
leaped  from  the  distant  level  to  our  eyes,  and  everybody  cried 
out  in  admiration  for  little  Boskoop,  which  in  summer  is  al 
ways  en  jete  among  garlands  and  bowers  of  bloom.  The 
rhododendrons  —  that  last  longer  with  us  than  in  England, 
like  all  other  flowers  —  were  beautiful  with  a  middle-aged 
clinging  to  the  glory  of  their  youth;  and  the  tall,  straight  flame 
of  azaleas  shot  up  from  every  grass-plot  against  a  background 
of  roses  — roses  white,  and  red,  and  amber;  roses  pale  pink, 
and  the  crimson  that  is  purple  in  shadow. 

Miss  Rivers  thought  she  would  like  to  live  there,  and  cul 
tivate  flowers;  but  I  told  her  that  she  had  better  not  nego 
tiate  for  the  purchase  of  a  house,  until  she  had  seen  the  miles 
of  blossom  at  Haarlem. 

We  had  not  kept  up  our  average  of  speed  to  nine  miles  an 
hour;  for,  though  we  made  ten  when  the  way  was  clear,  and 
no  yards  of  regulation  red-tape  to  get  tangled  in  our  steering- 
gear,  the  custom  of  these  waterways  is  to  slow  down  near 
villages  and  in  farming  country.  Besides,  we  met  barges 
loaded  to  the  water's  edge,  and  had  we  been  going  fast  our 
wash  would  have  swamped  them.  As  it  was,  we  flung  a  wave 
over  the  low  dykes,  and  sent  boats  moored  at  the  foot  of 
garden  steps  knocking  against  their  landing-stages,  in  fear  at 
our  approach.  But  after  Alphen  we  turned  into  a  green  stream, 


144  THE   CHAPERON 

so  evidently  not  a  canal  that  Aunt  Fay  was  moved  to  ask 
questions. 

Her  face  fell  when  she  heard  it  was  the  Rhine. 

"What,  this  the  Rhine!"  she  echoed.  "It's  no  wider  than  - 
than  the  Thames  at  Mario w.  I  was  there  last  summer  — 

"You  stayed  with  Lady  Marchant,"  broke  in  Starr,  hastily. 
It  was  not  the  first  time  he  had  cut  her  short,  and  the  little 
masquerader  bristled  under  the  treatment. 

"Oh  yes;  that  was  when  you  were  painting  my  portrait, 
wasn't  it?" 

Starr  flushed,  and  I  guessed  why,  remembering  his  Salon 
success,  and  recalling  that  it  was  his  portrait  of  Lady  Mac- 
Nairne  which  had  been  exhibited  this  year.  Of  course,  I  had 
been  stupid  not  to  put  the  two  facts  together,  and  realize  that 
his  success  and  her  portrait,  must  have  been  one  and  the  same. 

The  girls  had  probably  heard  of  it,  and  must  be  asking 
themselves  at  this  moment  how  a  portrait  of  this  little  spec 
tacled  thing  could  have  been  possible.  Cruel  Aunt  Fay !  Some 
how,  she  must  have  known  that  the  face  of  her  alter  ego  had 
been  painted  and  exhibited  by  Starr,  and  she  was  enjoying  his 
misery,  as  bad  boys  enjoy  the  wrigglings  of  butterflies  on  pins. 

In  pity  I  stepped  in  to  the  rescue,  and  began  again,  before 
a  question  about  the  portrait  could  fall  from  the  lips  of  Miss 
Rivers,  on  which  I  saw  it  trembling. 

"It's  the  Rhine  for  no  particular  reason,"  I  said.  "It's 
quite  arbitrary.  Farther  on  it's  the  Oude  Rhine,  farther  still 
the  Krommer,  or  Crooked  Rhine.  But  if  you  think  little  of 
it  here,  you'll  despise  it  at  Katwyk,  where  it's  end  is  so  ig 
nominious  that  it  has  to  be  pumped  into  the  sea." 

"I  don't  think  that  ignominious,"  said  the  Chaperon. 
"I  suppose  it  doesn't  choose  to  go  into  the  sea.  It  would 
rather  rest  after  its  labors  and  lie  down  in  a  pleasant  pool, 
to  dream  about  where  it  rose  on  the  Splugen,  or  about  the 
way  it  poured  out  of  Lake  Constance,  and  went  roaring  over 


RUDOLPH  BREDERODE'S  POINT  OF  VIEW    145 

the  rocks  at  Schaffhausen  to  wind  on  among  hilly  vineyards 
and  ruined  castles,  past  the  Drachenfels  and  Cologne.  If  they 
choose  to  pump  it  against  its  will,  that's  their  affair;  at  least 
that's  how  I  should  feel  if  I  were  the  Rhine." 

"How  Scotch  of  you,  Aunt  Fay!"  exclaimed  Starr,  fer 
vently;  but  he  looked  worried;  and  I  wondered  if  he  had 
told  the  girls  that  Lady  MacNairne  had  never  been  much 
abroad.  Evidently  her  double  has  traveled,  and  remembered 
what  she  saw.  I  am  not  curious  concerning  other  people's 
affairs,  but  I  confess  I  should  like  to  know  something  of  Aunt 
Fay's  past,  for  she  seems  so  ignorant  of  some  things,  so  well- 
informed  upon  others. 

Suddenly  Miss  Van  Buren  looked  up  from  a  red  book 
which  had  engaged  her  attention  ever  since,  at  Alphen,  we 
turned  out  of  the  narrow  water-street  of  the  canal  into  the 
broader  thoroughfare  of  the  river. 

"This  book  explains  everything  except  what  you  want  to 
know!"  she  complained.  "Why  can't  it  tell  what  Saint  Joris 
is  in  England  ?  He  must  be  some  saint  there,  and  I  saw  his 
name  over  that  nice  little  inn  with  the  garden  at  Alphen." 

"St.  George,"  I  said ;  though  she  had  not  asked  me. 

"I  might  have  known,"  she  sighed,  "and  no  doubt  the 
Dutch  have  put  the  dragon  into  their  language  too,  stuck  full 
of  those  "i's"  and  "j's,"  that  make  me  feel  whenever  I  see 
them  in  print  as  if  my  hair  were  done  up  too  tight,  or  my 
teeth  were  sizes  too  large  for  my  mouth.  *  Rijn  wijn, '  for  in 
stance.  Who  would  think  that  meant  something  sleek  and 
pleasant,  like  Rhine  wine  ?" 

"Why  not?"  I  asked.  "We  pronounce  it  almost  the 
same. " 

"That's  because  you  haven't  got  the  courage  of  your  con 
victions.  You  fling  the  Ts'  and  'j's'  about,  and  then  pretend 
they're  not  there." 

"Why,  don't  you  see  that  they're  only  'yV  ?"  I  protested, 


146  THE   CHAPERON 

and  really  it  does  appear  strange  that  to  foreign  eyes  they  can 
look,  when  side  by  side,  like  separate  letters. 

But  the  Chaperon  stopped  us.  She  said  that  we  could  find 
enough  to  do  minding  our  p's  and  q's  in  life,  without  quarrel 
ing  over  "i's"  and  "j  V;  so  the  argument  ended,  and  the  girls 
turned  their  attention  to  making  tea. 

They  did  it  charmingly,  juggling  with  the  contents  of  a 
tea-basket  which  Starr  brought  on  deck  and  placed  on  a 
little  folding-table.  Whether  Miss  Van  Buren  forgot  me  or 
not,  in  dealing  out  cups  when  tea  was  made,  at  all  events  she 
pretended  to,  and  reminded  by  her  stepsister,  gave  me  tea 
without  sugar.  Then,  begged  for  one  lump,  she  absentmind- 
edly  dropped  in  three,  while  talking  with  Starr.  Robert 
would  certainly  have  been  tempted  to  shake  her  if  he  had  been 
present  at  that  tea-party. 


XII 

MY  mother  sent  me  to  Oxford,  because  she  thought 
that  she  could  take  no  intelligent  interest  in  any 
young  man  if  he  had  not  had  his  four  years  at  Ox 
ford  or  Cambridge.  But  afterwards,  through  loyal 
ty  to  my  fatherland,  I  gave  myself  two  at  the  University  of 
Leiden;  and  as  the  rooms  I  lived  in  there  hold  memories  of 
Oliver  Goldsmith,  I've  kept  them  on  ever  since.  I  was  twenty- 
four  when  I  said  good-by  to  Leiden,  and  for  the  five  after- 
years  the  rooms  have  been  lent  to  a  cousin,  studying  for  his 
degree  as  a  learned  doctor  of  law.  Now,  I  knew  it  was  close 
upon  the  time  for  him  to  take  his  degree,  and  I  hoped  that  I 
might  be  able  to  show  my  friends  (and  one  Enemy)  a  few 
things  in  my  old  University  town  which  ordinary  tourists 
might  not  see. 

The  tea-things  had  been  washed  up,  and  a  discussion  of 
plans  (from  which  Miss  Van  Buren  managed  to  exclude  me) 
had  ended  in  no  definite  conclusion,  when  I  brought  "Lorelei" 
into  one  of  the  innumerable  green  canals  in  Leiden. 

"None  of  you  seem  to  know  what  you  want  to  do  first, 
last,  or  in  the  middle,"  I  ventured  to  remark;  "so.  to  save 
time,  perhaps  you'll  let  me  offer  a  few  suggestions.  I've  told 
Hendrik  to  fetch  a  cab,  and  he's  gone.  When  your  carriage 
comes,  engage  rooms  at  the  Levedag  Hotel,  drive  through  the 
town,  have  a  glance  at  the  churches,  and  go  to  the  Stadhuis. 
You'll  like  the  spire  and  the  facade.  They're  both  of  the 
sixteenth  century,  when  we  were  prosperous  and  artistic;  and 
over  the  north-side  entrance  there's  a  chronogram  inscription 
concerning  the  siege.  I  can't  go,  because  I  want  to  arrange 

147 


148  THE   CHAPERON 

your  evening,  which  I  hope  will  be  a  success.  But  I'll  meet 
you  in  the  Archive  Room  at  the  Stadhuis,  where  you  can 
admire  the  paneling  till  I  come.  I  won't  keep  you  waiting 
long;  and  then  I'll  take  you  over  the  University  Buildings. 
I  was  there,  you  know,  as  a  student." 

By  the  time  this  plan  was  arranged  to  the  satisfaction  of 
everybody  except  that  of  the  person  I  wished  to  please, 
Hendrik  had  arrived  with  a  cab,  and  five  minutes  later  I  was 
free  to  carry  out  my  scheme  for  the  evening. 

From  Gouda  I'd  sent  a  wire  to  my  cousin  Jan  van  Hoi, 
asking  him  to  be  at  home  and  expecting  me  between  four  and 
five,  so  I  felt  sure  of  him.  I  took  all  the  short  cuts  (which 
I  know  as  well  as  I  know  my  hat),  and  was  soon  climbing  the 
ladder-like  stairs  of  the  old  house,  the  top  floor  of  which  was 
home  to  me  for  two  years. 

From  those  windows  Goldsmith  looked  down  on  the  sleepy 
canal,  when  he  visited  a  crony  who  was  tenant  of  the  rooms; 
and  the  door  which  Goldsmith's  hand  often  touched  was 
thrown  open  by  the  present  tenant,  who  must  have  been  list 
ening  for  my  step. 

To  my  surprise,  he  was  in  wild  deshabille,  and  far  out  of 
his  usual  phlegmatic  self  with  excitement. 

"It's  my  Promotie  Day,"  he  explained.  "I'm  just  back 
and  have  got  out  of  my  swallow-tail  after  the  final  exam. 
I'm  due  at  the  Club  for  the  first  part  of  my  dinner  in  a  few 
minutes.  Had  you  forgotten,  or  didn't  you  get  your  card  ?" 

I  told  him  that  no  doubt  it  was  at  Liliendaal,  or  wandering 
in  search  of  me;  and  when  I  had  slapped  him  on  the  back, 
and  congratulated  him  as  "Learned  Doctor,"  I  began  to 
wonder  what  I  should  do,  as  it  was  clear  he  would  have  no 
time  to  help  me  carry  out  my  plans.  His  Promotie  dinner, 
the  grandest  affair  of  student  life,  and  the  rounding  off  of  it, 
would  be  in  three  parts,  with  various  ceremonies  in  between, 
and  would  last  from  now  until  two  or  three  in  the  morning. 


RUDOLPH  BREDERODE'S  POINT  OF  VIEW    149 

However,  I  told  him  what  I  had  wanted;  to  give  a  surprise 
dinner  at  his  diggings  for  the  party  from  "Lorelei,"  with  him 
to  arrange  details  while  I  played  guide,  and  to  take  the  part  of 
host  for  us  at  eight  o'clock.  Could  he  suggest  any  one  who 
would  look  after  the  thing  in  his  place  ?  Van  Rhonda  or 
Douw,  for  instance  ?  But  van  Rhonda  a'nd  Douw,  it  seemed, 
were  the  Paranymphs,  or  supporters  of  the  newly-made 
Doctor,  and  their  time  would  be  fully  taken  up  in  seeing  him 
through.  All  my  old  friends  who  were  left  would  be  at  the 
Promotie  dinner,  but  Jan  was  sure  that  my  business  might  be 
safely  entrusted  to  the  landlady.  She  would  get  flowers,  go  to 
the  hotel  to  order  whatever  I  wished,  and  even  superintend  the 
waiters. 

With  this  I  had  to  be  satisfied,  for  in  the  midst  of  the  dis 
cussion  appeared  the  two  Paranymphs,  wanting  to  know  what 
kept  Jan,  and  the  hero  of  the  day  was  ruthlessly  carried  off 
between  them.  I  had  to  do  the  best  I  could;  my  old  landlady 
had  not  forgotten  me,  and  I  was  assured  that  I  might  depend 
upon  her.  When  I  had  scribbled  a  menu,  consisting  of  some 
rather  odd  dishes,  sketched  an  idea  for  the  table  decoration, 
and  given  a  few  other  hasty  instructions,  I  dashed  off  to  keep 
my  appointment  at  the  Stadhuis.  On  the  way  I  consoled  my 
self  with  the  reflection  that  it's  an  ill  wind  which  blows  nobody 
good.  I  had  been  bereaved  of  Jan  as  a  prop,  but  I  might 
make  use  of  him  and  his  friends  by-and-by  as  one  of  the  sights 
of  Leiden,  and  I  would  take  advantage  of  my  knowledge  of 
the  usual  program  on  such  festive  nights  as  this  for  the  bene 
fit  of  my  friends. 

I  arrived  at  the  Stadhuis  as  the  others  took  their  first  look 
at  the  oak  in  the  Archive  Room.  There  was  just  one  other 
room  in  this  most  excellent  and  historic  building  that  I  wanted 
Miss  Van  Buren  to  see.  It  was  a  Tapestry  Room,  among 
other  Tapestry  Rooms,  of  no  importance;  but  I  remembered 
her  fantastic  desire  to  "live  in  the  stained-glass  country,"  and 


150  THE   CHAPERON 

I  recalled  a  certain  tapestry  garden  in  which  I  felt  sure  she 
would  long  to  wander.  There  was  a  meal  of  some  wonderful 
sort  going  on  in  it,  and  I  had  been  conscious  in  other  days  of 
a  desire  to  be  a  tapestry  man  and  sit  with  the  merry  tapestry 
lady  smiling  there.  All  tapestry  people  look  incredibly  happy, 
for  in  tapestry  etiquette  it's  bad  form  to  be  tragic.  Even  their 
battles  are  comedy  battles,  as  you  can  see  by  the  faces  of  the 
war-horses  that  they  have  a  strong  sense  of  humor;  but  these 
particular  tapestry  friends  of  mine  were  the  gayest  I  ever  met, 
and  I  wanted  Miss  Van  Buren  to  make  their  acquaintance. 

To  reach  the  room,  through  another  also  representing  a 
tapestry  world,  we  had  to  perform  a  dreadful  surgical  opera 
tion  on  the  abdomen  of  a  Roman  emperor  by  opening  a  door 
in  the  middle  of  it,  and,  as  the  Mariner  said,  the  size  of  the 
next  room  gave  the  same  sort  of  shock  that  Jonah  must  have 
had  when  he  arrived  in  the  whale. 

If  I  had  shown  her  that  tapestry  garden,  Miss  Van  Buren 
would  have  feigned  indifference;  but  I  left  her  to  Starr,  and 
from  a  distance  had  the  chastened  pleasure  of  hearing  her  say 
to  him  the  things  I  should  have  liked  her  to  say  to  me. 

Afterwards  I  swept  the  party  away  to  the  University,  pre 
paring  their  minds  to  expect  no  architectural  splendors. 

"Leiden  is  our  most  famous  university,"  I  said.  "But  we 
have  no  streets  of  beautiful  old  colleges,  no  lovely  gardens. 
You  see,  Oxford  and  Cambridge  are  universities  round  which 
towns  have  gathered,  whereas  Leiden  was  a  city  long  before 
William  the  Silent  gave  its  people  choice,  as  a  reward  for 
their  heroic  defense,  of  freedom  from  taxes  or  a  university. 
When  they  said  they'd  have  the  university,  the  thing  was  to 
get  it.  Money  wasn't  plentiful,  and  here  was  an  old  monastery, 
empty  and  ready  for  use  —  a  building  whose  simplicity  would 
have  appealed  to  William  in  his  later  days." 

It  was  not  until  they  had  this  apology  well  in  their  heads 
that  I  ushered  them  into  the  bare,  red-brick  courtyard  so  full 


RUDOLPH  BREDERODE'S  POINT  OF  VIEW    151 

of  memories  for  me,  and  here  I  buckled  on  my  armor  of  de 
fense. 

"Our  universities  have  produced  great  men,  though  they've 
given  them  no  Gothic  buildings  or  fairy  gardens.  Where  will 
you  find  more  illustrious  names  than  Scaliger,  Grotius,  and 
Oliver  Goldsmith  ?  —  lots  ot  others,  too.  Why,  Niebuhr  said 
of  our  old  hall  that  no  place  is  so  memorable  in  the  history  of 
science. 

Trying  to  appear  impressed,  the  three  ladies,  followed  by 
Starr,  trailed  into  the  building,  deserted  at  this  hour;  and  it 
was  the  artist's  quick  eye  that  first  caught  the  eccentric  merit 
of  the  famous  caricatures  lining  the  staircase. 

Then  came  the  chamber  of  torture,  the  "Sweating  Room," 
that  bare,  whitewashed  cell  remembered  by  all  Leideners  with 
anguish.  There  I  (and  thousands  before  and  thousands  after) 
had  sat  to  wait  my  dreaded  turn  with  the  professors  behind  the 
green-baize  table  in  the  room  next  door.  There  I  —  among 
those  other  nerve-shattered  ones  —  had  scribbled  my  name 
and  scrawled  a  sketch  or  two.  "Here  sweated  Rudolph  Bre- 
derode,"  read  out  Miss  Rivers,  with  a  sweet  look,  as  if  she 
pitied  me  now  for  what  I  suffered  then.  But  Miss  Van  Buren 
showed  sublime  indifference.  She  wished,  she  said,  to  pick 
out  names  that  were  really  interesting. 

Even  she,  however,  was  roused  to  compassion  for  the 
tortured  ones,  when  in  the  adjoining  room  she  heard  that  the 
examinations  were  conducted  publicly,  and  that  there  was  no 
reason  why  any  stranger  should  not  walk  in  from  the  street 
to  hear  the  victims  put  to  the  question.  / 

"It's  good  for  us,"  I  said.  "Helps  us  to  pluck  and  self- 
control."  But  nobody  agreed  with  me,  and  it  was  Miss  Van 
Buren's  opinion  that  none  save  Dutchmen  would  stand  it. 

The  Senate  Room,  which  Niebuhr  wrote  of,  found  favor 
in  her  eyes ;  but  after  that  there  was  nothing  more  to  do  in  the 
University,  and  it  was  only  six  o'clock.  There  were  two  hours 


152  THE   CHAPERON 

before  the  surprise  dinner;  so,  without  giving  my  secret  away, 
I  said  that,  if  we  put  off  dining  until  eight,  we  could  see  the 
Laeckenhalle,  and  go  up  to  the  Burg  at  sunset. 

The  Laeckenhalle  and  the  Burg  were  mere  names  to  them, 
as  few  scraps  are  thrown  to  either  place  by  the  guide-books; 
but  so  delighted  were  they  with  the  carvings  on  the  house  of 
the  Cloth  Spinner's  Guild  and  the  marbles  in  the  courtyard 
that  I  could  hardly  get  them  inside.  Once  within,  Starr  made 
Miss  Van  Buren  laugh  at  the  things  she  ought  to  have  respect 
ed  and  linger  before  the  things  I  hadn't  intended  to  point  out. 

But  I  was  not  shocked  at  her  flippant  delight  in  a  quaint 
representation  of  tortures  in  hell,  nor  was  I  stirred  by  her 
scorn  of  the  stiff  siege-pictures,  with  van  der  Werf  offering 
his  arm  as  food  for  the  starving  people,  rather  than  surrender 
to  the  Spaniards.  In  spite  of  her  distaste  for  the  painting,  how 
ever,  she  would  not  hear  me  decry  van  der  Werf  in  favor  of  an 
obscure  engineer,  lately  discovered  as  the  true  hero  of  the 
siege.  Van  der  Werf  should  not  be  snatched  from  her  by  a 
man  she  chose  to  detest,  so  she  argued  and  abused  my  trea 
chery  during  the  whole  time  spent  among  the  relics  of  the 
siege.  She  glared  at  the  saucepan  retrieved  from  the  Spanish 
camp  as  if  she  would  have  thrown  it  at  my  head.  She  thought 
me  capable  of  denying  authenticity  to  the  blocks  of  taret- 
gnawed  wood  torn  from  the  dykes  when  a  worm  made  Hol 
land  tremble  as  Philip  of  Spain  could  never  do ;  nor  would  she 
forgive  me  van  der  Werf,  though  I  did  my  best  with  the  tale  of 
that  time  of  fear  when  men,  women,  and  children  worked  their 
fingers  to  the  bone  in  restoring  what  the  worm  had  destroyed, 
and  keeping  the  sea  from  their  doors. 

I  never  yielded  her  a  point,  all  the  way  up  to  the  Burg,  for 
at  least  I  was  cheating  Starr  of  her.  But  in  the  fortress,  on  the 
ancient  mound  heaped  up  by  Hengist,  I  and  my  opinions  were 
forgotten.  She  wanted  to  be  let  alone,  and  pretend  she  was  a 
woman  of  Leiden,  looking  out  across  the  red  roofs  of  the  city, 


RUDOLPH  BREDERODE'S  POINT  OF  VIEW    153 

through  the  pitiless  red  of  the  sunset,  for  the  fleet  of  rescuing 
barges. 

Nevertheless,  she  did  deign  to  ask  how,  if  the  way  had  been 
opened  for  the  sea  to  flood  the  land,  the  people  coaxed  it  to 
go  back  again.  And  she  looked  at  me  as  she  had  looked  at 
Starr,  while  I  told  how  the  thing  had  been  done;  how  the 
water  that  floated  William's  fleet  for  the  relief  of  the  town  was 
but  two  feet  in  depth;  how  only  a  gale  from  the  south  at  the 
right  time  sent  the  waters  flowing  from  the  broken  dykes 
above  Schiedam  north  as  far  as  Leiden;  and  how  no  sooner 
was  the  city  saved  than  the  wind  changed,  calling  back  the 
waters. 

From  the  wails  of  the  fortress  we  saw  the  sun  go  down; 
and  then,  with  Starr  in  the  ascendant  again,  we  strolled 
through  quiet  streets,  crossing  bridges  over  canals  spread  with 
soft  green  carpets  of  moss.  But  we  were  not  going  to  the 
hotel ;  and  without  a  word  about  dinner,  I  asked  if  they  would 
care  to  see  a  student's  "diggings."  I  had  only  to  add  as  a 
bribe  that  Oliver  Goldsmith  had  visited  there  and  carved  his 
initials  in  a  heart  on  the  wainscotting,  to  make  them  eager  to 
climb  the  steep  stairs  which  led  to  my  Surprise. 

It  began  by  my  opening  the  door  at  the  top  with  a  key — 
instead  of  knocking.  This  set  them  to  wondering;  but  I 
laughed,  evading  questions,  and  lured  them  into  an  oak-walled 
room,  dim  with  twilight. 

According  to  instructions,  no  lamp  or  candle  had  been 
lighted,  but  a  glance  showed  me  a  large  screen  wrapped  round 
something  in  a  corner,  and  I  knew  that  I  hadn't  trusted  good 
old  Mevrow  Hoogeboom  in  vain. 

Now  I  struck  a  match  from  my  own  match-box,  and  as  the 
flame  flared  up,  success  number  one  was  scored.  It  was  the 
old-fashioned  Dutch  lamp-lighter  of  brass,  to  which  I  touched 
the  match,  that  called  out  the  first  note  of  admiration  from  the 
strangers ;  and  as  I  woke  up  candle  after  candle,  in  its  quaint 


154  THE   CHAPERON 

brass  stick,  the  first  notes  rose  to  a  chorus.  What  a  lovely 
room !  What  walls,  what  dear  old  blue-and-white  china  beasts, 
what  a  wonderful  fireplace,  with  handles  to  hold  on  by  as  you 
stood  and  warmed  yourself!  What  chairs,  what  chests  of 
drawers,  what  pewter  tankards !  If  this  were  a  typical  room 
of  a  Leiden  undergraduate,  the  Leiden  undergraduates  were 
lucky  men. 

I  had  to  explain  that  it  was  hardly  fair  to  call  it  typical; 
that  only  a  man  with  money  and  a  love  for  picking  up  old 
things  would  have  quarters  like  these;  still,  the  lodgings  were 
typical  of  Leiden. 

When  the  ladies  had  exhausted  their  adjectives,  they  grew 
curious  concerning  their  host.  I  told  them  that  the  man  was 
absent,  because  this  happened  to  be  the  night  of  his  Promotie 
dinner,  but  that  I  was  free  to  do  the  honors. 

"Well,  I'm  sick  with  envy  of  the  fellow,"  said  Starr,  "and 
I  for  one  daren't  trust  myself  any  longer,  especially  on  an 
empty  stomach,  among  his  pewters  and  blue  beasts  and  brass 
es.  We'd  better  go  away  and  have  dinner." 

"You  needn't  go  away,"  said  I,  jerking  an  old-fashioned 
bell-rope,  and  drawing  the  screen  aside.  Behind  it,  was  what 
I  had  hoped  would  be  there  —  a  table  laid  for  five,  with  plenty 
of  nice  glass  and  silver,  and  banked  with  pink  and  white  roses. 
As  everybody  exclaimed  at  the  sight,  an  inner  door  opened 
and  two  waiters  from  the  Levedag,  wrho  had  been  biding  their 
time  for  my  signal,  appeared  in  answer  to  the  bell. 

"It's  black  magic,"  said  Aunt  Fay.  "I  believe  these  men 
are  genii,  and  you've  got  the  lamp  in  your  pocket.  How  I 
wish  I  hadn't  left  Tibe  at  the  hotel.  He  would  have  loved 
this,  poor  darling. " 

"Dinner  is  served,  sir,"  announced  one  of  the  genii;  and 
laughing,  I  offered  the  Chaperon  my  arm. 

"But  it  can't  be  for  us,"  objected  Miss  Rivers. 

"It's  for  no  one  else,"  said  I. 


"//'A'  black  magic,"  said  Aunt  Fay 


RUDOLPH  BREDERODE'S  POINT  OF  VIEW    155 

"How  can  we  eat  the  man's  things,  when  he's  never  seen 
us,  and  we've  never  seen  him  ? "  Miss  Van  Buren  appealed  to 
Starr.  But  it  was  I  who  answered. 

"You  see  him  now,"  I  confessed.  "These  are  my  rooms. 
I  lend  them  to  my  cousin,  but  I've  kept  the  right  to  use  them. 
As  for  the  dinner,  it's  my  dinner,  and  it  will  be  a  humiliation 
to  me  if  you  refuse  to  eat  it. " 

These  words  were  meant  for  her,  and  I  looked  straight  at 
her  as  I  spoke,  so  there  could  be  no  mistake.  Red  sprang  to 
her  cheeks.  She  bit  her  lip,  and  what  she  would  have  answered 
or  done  if  left  to  herself  I  shall  never  know,  for  Miss  Rivers 
slipped  one  arm  coaxingly  within  the  arm  of  her  stepsister, 
arid  said,  with  a  laugh,  to  make  it  seem  that  all  three  were 
jesting  - 

"Why,  of  course  she  won't  refuse.  None  of  us  would  for 
give  her  for  spoiling  our  pleasure.  Come  along,  Nell." 

So  Nell  did  "come  along,"  like  the  sweet  and  sensible  girl 
she  really  is,  when  she  has  not  been  driven  to  defiance  by 
blundering  young  men;  and  we  sat  down  to  eat  the  best 
dinner  that  Leiden  could  provide  at  short  notice.  Nothing 
that  was  truly  Dutch  had  been  forgotten,  but  the  most  bril 
liant  success  was  not  the  plat  on  which  the  chef  would  have 
staked  his  reputation.  It  was  nothing  more  nor  less  than  the 
dish  with  which  all  Leiden  invariably  occupies  itself  on  the 
3rd  of  October,  anniversary  of  blessed  memory.  On  that  day 
it  was,  three  hundred  and  thirty  odd  years  ago,  that  a  little 
boy  ran  joyously  home  from  a  flying  visit  to  the  deserted 
Spanish  camp,  with  a  pot  of  carrots  and  potatoes  mixed  to 
gether  in  a  hotch-potch;  therefore,  with  hotch-potch  does 
Leiden  to  this  hour  celebrate  the  Great  Relief,  eating  with 
thanksgiving. 

And  my  guests  ate  with  compliments,  enjoying  the  idea  if 
not  the  food,  as  if  they  had  been  Leideners.  Last  of  all,  we 
had  grilled  herrings  with  mustard,  on  toasted  bread,  a  quaint 


156  THE   CHAPERON 

conceit  which  I  had  to  explain  by  telling  how,  on  the  3rd  of 
October,  bread  and  herrings  are  still  distributed  to  the  poor, 
because  it  was  with  herrings  and  bread  that  the  Dutch  boats, 
coming  to  the  relief  of  Leiden,  were  loaded. 

I  managed  to  keep  the  party  long  at  the  table,  and  when 
the  Chaperon  proposed  going,  I  looked  at  my  watch,  counsel 
ing  patience  for  half  an  hour. 

"If  you'll  wait,"  I  said,  "I'll  show  you  something  rather 
special  on  the  way  home  —  something  that  can't  be  seen  by 
everyone." 

Then  I  told  about  my  cousin;  how  this  was  his  great  day, 
and  how,  without  being  invited,  we  could  share  the  fun.  I  told 
how,  early  this  morning,  Jan's  Paranymphs  had  donned  eve 
ning  dress,  according  to  old  custom,  and  driven  in  smart  car 
riages  (the  horses'  heads  nodding  with  plumes)  to  the  railway 
station  to  meet  their  principal's  father,  mother,  sisters,  and 
pretty  cousins;  how  the  party  had  then  come  to  these  rooms, 
where  Jan  had  received  them,  half  shamefaced  in  his  "swal 
low-tail";  how,  not  long  before  we  arrived  at  the  University, 
Jan  had  gone  through  his  torture  in  the  "sweating-room,"  and 
before  the  examiners  with  his  relatives  present;  how  the 
ladies,  after  seeing  the  town,  had  been  ungallantly  packed 
off  home,  before  the  best  fun  began.  How  Jan  had  returned, 
to  cast  away  his  evening  things  at  the  time  when  most  people 
think  of  putting  them  on,  and  rush  to  the  Students'  Club  in 
morning  dress.  How  his  Paranymphs  and  friends  had  met 
him,  and  at  a  big  round  table  —  soon  to  be  covered  with 
glasses  —  the  Professors'  servant  (called  "Pedel"  of  the  Un 
iversity)  had  handed  the  new  Doctor  his  official  appointment, 
in  return  for  a  fee  of  ten  gulden.  How  the  dinner  had  begun  in 
speech-making  and  music,  with  an  adjournment  after  the 
first  part,  to  the  garden  for  coffee,  liqueurs,  and  cigars;  how, 
when  the  table  had  been  cleared  and  rearranged,  everybody 
had  marched  back  to  risk  their  lives  by  eating  lobster  and 


RUDOLPH  BREDERODE'S  POINT  OF  VIEW    157 

quantities  of  indigestible  things.  How  Jan  would  then  have 
had  to  make  his  "palaver,"  thanking  his  friends  for  their 
speeches  in  his  honor;  and  how,  while  he  was  speaking,  the 
waiters  would  be  placing  a  large  napkin  at  the  plate  of  each 
man  —  a  mere  napkin,  but  destined  for  an  outlandish  pur 
pose.  "By  this  time,"  I  went  on  mysteriously,  "those  napkins 
are  fulfilling  their  destiny,  and  if  you  would  like  to  see  what  it 
is,  you've  only  to  follow  me." 

They  were  on  their  feet  in  an  instant.  We  scrambled  down 
the  narrow  stairs,  and  out  into  the  starlit  night.  Leiden  was  a 
city  of  the  dead.  Not  even  a  dog  played  sentinel  for  the  sleep 
ing  townsfolk;  not  a  cat  sprang  out  of  the  shadows  as  I  led 
my  band  through  a  labyrinth  of  canal-streets,  floored  as  if 
with  jet  nailed  down  with  stars.  But  suddenly  the  spell  of 
silence  was  broken  by  an  explosion  of  sound  which  crashed 
into  it  like  breaking  glass.  A  brassy  blare  of  music  that  could 
not  drown  young  men's  laughter,  burst  on  us  so  unexpectedly 
that  the  three  ladies  gave  starts,  and  stifled  cries.  I  stopped 
them  at  a  corner,  and  we  huddled  into  the  shadow,  flattened 
against  a  wall. 

"The  Napkins  are  coming!"  I  said,  and  I  had  not  got  the 
words  out  before  the  blue  darkness  was  aflame  with  the  red 
light  of  streaming  torches,  a  wild  light  which  matched  the 
band  music.  There  was  a  trampling  of  feet,  and  in  the  midst  of 
smoke  and  ruddy  flare  sequined  with  flying  sparks,  came 
torch-bearers  and  musicians,  led  by  one  man  of  solemn  coun 
tenance,  holding  in  both  hands  a  noble  Nougat  Tart  —  the 
historic,  the  indispensable  Nougat  Tart.  Then,  with  a  mea 
sured  trot  that  swung  and  balanced  with  the  music,  followed 
the  Napkins,  wound  turban-fashion  round  the  heads  of  their 
wearers,  and  floating  like  white  banners  with  the  breeze  of 
motion.  First  came  a  Paranymph  thus  adorned,  then  the  learn 
ed  Doctor  holding  fast  to  the  leader's  coat-tails;  behind  him 
the  second  Paranymph,  and  clinging  to  his  coat  the  hero's 


158  THE   CHAPERON 

father,  with  the  whole  procession  of  turbaned  friends  tailing 
after. 

They  swept  by  us  as  a  comet  sweeps  down  the  sky,  and 
concerned  themselves  with  our  group  against  the  wall  no 
more  than  a  comet  does  with  such  humble  stars,  dusting  the 
outskirts  of  the  Milky  Way,  as  shrink  from  his  fiery  path. 

"A  vision  of  goblins,"  said  the  Mariner,  when  he  had  got 
his  breath. 

"What  fun!  But  why  do  they  do  it?"  asked  Miss  Rivers. 

"Why?  I'm  sure  I  don't  know,"  I  laughed,  "except  be 
cause  they  always  have,  and  I  suppose  always  will,  while 
there's  a  university  at  Leiden.  That's  all  we'll  see,  but  it  isn't 
all  there  is  to  see.  By-and-by  the  procession  will  go  prancing 
back  to  the  Club,  where  the  next  thing  will  be  to  get  over  the 
big  reading-table,  then  over  the  buffet  of  the  bar,  without  once 
breaking  the  chain  of  coat-tails,  through  passages  and  kit 
chens  to  the  club-room  once  more,  where  the  chain  will  be 
split  up,  but  where  the  chairs  in  which  the  men  will  sit  to 
drink  champagne  and  eat  the  Nougat  Tart,  must  be  on  the 
tables  and  not  round  them." 

"And  will  that  be  the  end  ?"  inquired  the  Chaperon,  who 
ever  thirsts  with  ardor  for  information. 

"Not  nearly,"  said  I.  "The  third  part  of  dinner  will  be  due, 
and  every  one's  bound  to  eat  it,  even  those  whose  chairs  have 
fallen  off  from  the  pyramids  of  small  tables,  and  whose  heads 
or  bones  have  suffered.  They'll  have  dessert;  and  at  dawn 
the  best  men  will  be  taking  a  country  drive." 

"I  begin  to  understand,"  said  Starr,  "how  your  people 
exhausted  the  Spaniards.  Good  heavens,  you  could  wear 
out  the  Rock  of  Gibraltar !  And  I  see  why,  though  you  can 
eat  all  day  and  all  night  too,  you  don't  put  on  fat  like  your 
German  cousins." 

"When  we  begin  a  thing,  we  Dutchmen  see  it  through,"  I 
replied  modestly. 


RUDOLPH  BREDERODE'S  POINT  OF  VIEW    159 

"So  do  we  Americans,"  remarked  Miss  Van  Buren. 

"I  wonder  which  would  win  if  the  two  interests  were  op 
posed  ?"  I  hazarded,  a  propos  of  nothing  —  or  of  much. 

"I  should  bet  on  America,"  said  she. 

"I  don't  bet,"  I  returned,  with  all  the  emphasis  I  dared 
give;  though  perhaps  it  was  not  enough  to  tear  up  a  deep- 
rooted  impression;  albeit  the  seed  had  been  sown  for  but 
four-and-twenty  hours. 

So  ended  the  lesson  for  the  first  day. 

It  was  not  an  easy  lesson  for  me.  But  I  regret  nothing. 


XIII 

OOK  here,"  said  the  Mariner  next  morning,  rap 
ping  on  my  door  at  the  hotel,  "how  soon  could  we 
_J  start  f or  Katwyk?" 

"I  thought  the  expedition  was  given  up,"  I  an 
swered,  "as  nobody  spoke  of  it  last  night. " 

"Not  in  your  presence,  but  my  worthy  aunt  rejoices  in  a 
sitting-room,  and  we  met  there  —  some  of  us  —  to  discuss  the 
expedition.  The  girls  think  they're  keen  to  go,  but  it's  a  case 
of  hypnotism.  She  wants  a  thing,  and  in  some  curious  way, 
known  only  to  herself,  she  gives  others  the  impression  that 
they  are  wanting  it  frantically." 

"I've  noticed  that,"  said  I. 

"Oh,  you  have  ?  Well,  she's  a  wonderful  woman.  I  daren't 
dwell  upon  the  things  she's  got  out  of  me  already,  or  ask  my 
self  what  she'll  get  before  the  play's  finished.  That  sitting- 
room,  for  instance.  I  suppose  it  will  end  in  her  always  having 
one.  Did  you  observe  Tibe's  collar  ?  It  cost  twenty-five  dollars, 
and  the  queer  part  is  that  I  offered  it  to  her.  I  thought  at  the 
time  I  wanted  him  to  have  it.  Now,  I  ask  you,  as  man  to  man, 
is  it  canny  ?  And  she  has  a  traveling-bag  with  gold  fittings.  I 
presented  it  under  the  delusion  that  I  owed  it  to  her  as  my  - 
temporary  relative.  Heavens,  where  is  this  to  end  ?  Not  at 
Katwyk,  with  the  Rhine.  But  we've  got  to  go  there.  Anything 
to  please  her. " 

Strange  to  say,  the  hypnotic  influence  must  have  stolen 
up  from  her  ladyship's  room  on  the  floor  below,  and  along 
the  corridor  to  mine,  for  I  found  myself  thinking:  "She 
rather  likes  me,  and  can  be  useful,  if  she  dominates  the 

160 


RUDOLPH  BREDERODE'S  POINT  OF  VIEW    161 

two  girls  in  this  way.  I  must  do  my  best  to  keep  her  on  my 
side." 

No  doubt  this  was  the  form  the  influence  took,  but  I  made 
no  struggle  against  it.  On  the  contrary,  I  assured  Starr  that 
the  expedition  to  Katwyk  would  be  a  good  expedition;  that  I 
would  be  dressed  in  ten  minutes;  that  I  didn't  mind  about 
breakfast,  but  would  have  a  cup  of  coffee  with  Hendrik;  that 
if  the  party  came  on  board  "Lorelei"  in  half  an  hour,  they 
would  find  her  ready. 

"All  right,  I'll  tell  them,"  said  he.  "I  did  want  to  stop  and 
see  a  few  pictures,  for  it  seems  a  burning  shame  to  leave 
the  town  where  Gerard  Douw,  and  Steen,  and  lots  of  other 
splendid  chaps  were  born,  without  worshiping  at  their  shrines, 
but- 

"They're  rather  bare  shrines  at  Leiden,"  I  consoled  him. 
"You've  seen  much  better  specimens  of  their  work  elsewhere. 
You'd  be  disappointed. " 

"Just  as  well  to  think  so.  I'll  give  your  message;  but  as 
there  are  three  ladies  and  one  dog,  you'd  better  expect  us  when 
you  see  us." 

In  spite  of  this  fact  I  had  little  time  to  spare,  though  it  ap 
peared  that  en  route  to  the  boat  a  delay  was  caused  by  Tibe 
jumping  into  a  cab  with  two  elderly  ladies  from  Boston,  who, 
so  far  from  reciprocating  his  overtures,  nearly  swooned  with 
terror,  and  had  to  be  soothed  and  sustained  by  the  entire 
party. 

The  canal  that  leads  from  Leiden  to  Katwyk-aan-Zee 
passes  the  houses  of  Descartes  and  Spinoza;  and  altogether 
the  ,"  hort  journey  by  water  did  not  lack  interest,  for  Katwyk 
has  become  a  colony  of  artists.  Once  there,  we  walked  to  the 
sluice  where  the  Rhine  seeks  its  grave  in  the  North  Sea;  and 
as  it  happened  that  the  tide  was  high,  with  a  strong  shore 
wind,  I  could  show  the  Cyclopean  defenses  of  our  coast  at 
their  best.  With  the  secret  pleasure  which  I  believe  all  men 


162  THE   CHAPERON 

take  in  pointing  out  things  to  women,  I  explained  the  great 
series  of  gates  through  which  the  river  passes  to  its  death.  All 
were  closed  against  the  raging  waves,  which  leaped  and  bel 
lowed,  demanding  entrance,  rearing  their  fierce  heads  twelve 
feet  or  more  above  the  level  where  the  Rhine  lay  dying. 
When  the  tide  should  turn,  and  the  wild  water  retreat,  the 
sluice-gates  would  be  opened,  and  the  river  would  pour  sea 
ward,  sweeping  away  the  masses  of  sand  piled  up  in  fury  by 
the  cheated  waves. 

We  lunched  on  board  the  "Lorelei,"  1  munching  abjectly  on 
deck,  on  duty  at  the  wheel,  while  from  the  cabin  below  came 
to  my  ears  the  tinkling  of  girls'  laughter,  and  the  merry  pop 
ping  of  corks.  In  theory  I  was  better  off  than  Tantalus,  for  Tan 
talus  had  no  beer  or  sandwiches;  but,  on  the  other  hand  Tan 
talus  was  not  in  love  with  a  girl  whose  voice  he  could  hear 
mingling  with  his  rival's;  so  practically  there  was  not  much  to 
choose. 

Luckily  I  had  not  to  bear  the  strain  for  long.  I  did  my  best 
yesterday,  in  talking  of  Haarlem,  to  awaken  interest  in  the 
huge  Haarlemmer-meer  Polder,  and  its  importance  in  the 
modern  scheme  of  the  Netherlands.  Now  my  eloquence  was 
rewarded,  for  they  hurried  through  their  luncheon,  not  that 
they  might  cheer  the  skipper's  loneliness,  but  that  they  might 
miss  no  feature  in  the  landscape. 

We  were  skirting  one  side  of  the  green  plain  which  has 
been  reclaimed  from  the  water,  converting  the  meer  into  a 
"polder."  Our  canal  flowed  many  feet  above  the  level  of  the 
surrounding  land,  so  that  we  looked  down  upon  men  tilling, 
upon  white-sailed  boats  cutting  through  miniature  waterways 
as  if  they  navigated  meadows,  and  upon  cows  grazing  knee- 
deep  in  mist,  which  rose  like  blowing  silver  spray,  over  the 
pale-green  waves  of  grass. 

These  black-and-white  cattle,  according  to  Miss  Van 
Buren,  form  the  upper  circles  of  the  cow-world  in  Holland. 


RUDOLPH  BREDERODE'S  POINT  OF  VIEW    163 

Not  only  do  they  live  up  to  their  traditions  by  being  cleaner 
and  sleeker  than  the  cows  of  other  countries,  but  they  know 
themselves  to  be  better  connected  than  the  mere  red-and- 
white  creatures  with  whom  they  are  occasionally  forced  to 
share  a  meadow.  To  show  that  they  understand  what  is  due  to 
their  dignity,  they  refuse  to  talk  with  the  common  herd,  and 
stand  with  their  backs  to  any  red-and-white  nonentity  that 
may  presume  to  graze  near,  conversing  among  themselves  in 
refined  monotones  with  the  air  of  saying,  "Who  was  she  ?" 

There's  little  in  the  history  of  the  Netherlands  which  Miss 
Van  Buren  does  not  know,  for  she  is  proud  of  her  Dutch 
blood,  though  she  won't  say  so  before  me.  The  others  are 
frankly  ignorant;  but  the  Chaperon  has  read  a  book  of  Rider 
Haggard's  called  "Lysbeth,"  and  was  deeply  interested  in  the 
Haarlemmer-meer,  where  the  "treasure"  of  that  story  lay  hid; 
but  it  was  news  to  her  that  the  great  inland  sea  had  once  sent  a 
destructive  flood  to  the  gates  of  Amsterdam,  and  that  as  pun 
ishment  it  had  been  drained  away.  Miss  Van  Buren  —  whom 
I  think  of  as  "Nell"  -  knew  all  this,  including  the  very  day  in 
1840  when  the  work  was  begun,  and  how  many  months  the 
pumps  had  taken  to  drink  the  monstrous  cup  dry;  but  the 
mysterious  little  lady  who  rules  us  all,  and  is  ruled  by  Tibe, 
expected  to  find  the  Haarlemmer-meer  still  a  lake,  and  was 
disappointed  to  learn  the  meaning  of  "polder."  She  thought 
thirty-nine  months  too  long  for  draining  it,  and  was  sure  that 
in  America  (where  she  quickly  added  that  she  had  "once 
been")  they  would  have  done  the  work  in  half  the  time. 

Every  one  fell  in  love  with  the  outskirts  of  Haarlem,  as 
"Lorelei"  swam  into  the  River  Spaarne.  Though  the  glory  of 
the  tulips  was  extinguished  (like  fairy-lamps  at  dawn)  three 
months  ago,  the  flowers  of  summer  blazed  in  their  stead,  a 
brilliant  mosaic  of  jewels. 

"The  Dutch  don't  seem  a  nation  to  have  gone  mad  over 
a  tulip;  but  perhaps  they  were  different  in  the  seventeenth 


164  THE   CHAPERON 

century,"  said  Miss  Rivers,  looking  at  me,  as  if  I  stood  to  re 
present  my  people. 

"And  the  English  don't  seem  the  kind  to  have  lost  their 
heads  over  a  South  Sea  Bubble,  but  they  did,"  retorted  Nell, 
as  if  she  were  defending  us. 

They  liked  the  houses  along  the  river-side,  houses  big  and 
little,  which  look  as  if  the  front  and  back  walls  of  their  lower 
stories  had  been  knocked  out,  and  the  space  filled  in  with 
glass.  They  were  amused  by  the  rounded  awnings  over  the 
balconies,  which  Nell  likened  to  the  covers  of  giant  babies' 
perambulators;  and  they  laughed  at  the  black-painted  doors 
picked  out  with  lines  of  pale  green,  which  contrasted  with  a 
whitewashed  fa£ade. 

At  Haarlem  I  had  another  surprise  for  them,  which  I  ar 
ranged  before  leaving  Rotterdam.  It  was  one  which  would 
cost  nothing  in  trouble,  little  enough  in  money,  and  would 
give  pleasure  to  everybody  —  except  to  my  chauffeur,  who  is 
in  love  with  my  mother's  French  maid,  and  no  doubt  was 
reveling  in  the  thought  of  a  long  holiday  at  Liliendaal. 

When  I'd  brought  "Lorelei"  through  the  bridge,  and  hove 
her  to  by  the  broad  quay,  there  stood  close  at  hand  a  hand 
some,  dark-blue  motor-car. 

"What  a  beauty!"  exclaimed  Nell.  "That's  much  grander 
than  Robert's."  Then  she  glanced  at  me.  "I  beg  your  par 
don,"  said  she,  demurely.  "I'm  afraid  the  car  my  cousin  has 
is  yours." 

"So  is  this,"  said  I. 

"Dear  me,  what  is  I  doing  here  ?"  she  demanded,  sorry 
to  have  praised  a  possession  of  the  enemy's. 

"It's  waiting  to  take  you  round  Haarlem,"  I  replied.  "I 
thought  it  would  be  a  nice  way  for  you  to  see  the  place,  as  the 
suburbs  are  its  speciality,  so  to  speak,  and  motoring  saves 
time." 

"You're  a  queer  chap,  Alb,"  remarked  the  Mariner.  "You 


RUDOLPH  BREDERODE'S  POINT  OF  VIEW    165 

have  such  a  way  of  keeping  things  up  your  sleeve,  and  spring 
ing  them  on  one.  You  ought  to  be  called  'William  the  Silent.' ' 

"Why,  that's  what  he  is  called,  didn't  you  know  ?  Mr.  van 
Buren  told  us,"  exclaimed  Phyllis,  and  ended  up  her  sentence 
with  a  stifled  shriek  which  could  have  meant  nothing  but  a 
surreptitious  pinch. 

I  would  not  have  glanced  at  either  of  the  girls  for  anything; 
but  I  would  have  given  something  to  know  how  Nell  was 
looking. 

"Have  you  any  more  belongings  here?"  asked  the  Cha 
peron,  gaily.  "Such  as  an  ancestral  castle,  where  you  could 
give  us  another  surprise  feast  ?" 

I  laughed.  "As  a  matter  of  fact,  I  have  an  ancestral  castle 
in  the  neighborhood.  It  isn't  mine,  but  it  was  my  ancestors', 
and  if  I  can't  exactly  entertain  you  in  it,  I  can  give  you  tea 
close  by  at  a  country  inn.  Perhaps  you've  read  about  the 
Chateau  of  Brederode,  within  a  drive  of  Haarlem  ?" 

I  saw  by  Nell's  face  that  she  had,  but  she  was  the  only  one 
who  did  not  answer,  and  the  others  hadn't  informed  them 
selves  of  its  existence. 

Hendrik,  helped  by  my  chauffeur,  got  out  the  small  luggage 
which  is  kept  ready  for  shore  duty  —  the  Chaperon's  splendid 
ly-fitted  dressing-bag  making  everything  else  look  shabby  - 
and  the  five  of  us  (six  with  Tibe)  got  into  the  car,  I  taking  the 
driver's  seat. 

The  streets  of  Haarlem  being  too  good  to  slight,  I  drove 
leisurely  toward  the  heart  of  the  old  town,  meaning  to  en 
gage  rooms  and  leave  all  belongings  at  the  quaint  Hotel  Funck- 
ler,  which  I  thought  they  would  like  better  than  any  other;  but 
passing  the  cathedral,  Miss  Phyllis  begged  to  stop,  and  I 
slowed  down  the  car.  After  Gouda's  wonderful  glass,  they 
would  have  found  the  Haarlem  church  disappointing,  had  it 
not  been  for  the  two  or  three  redeeming  features  left  in  the 
cold,  bare  structure;  the  beautiful  screen  of  open  brass- work, 


166  THE   CHAPERON 

with  its  base  of  dark  wood,  on  which  brightly-painted,  mystic 
beasts  disport  themselves  among  the  coats-of-arms  of  divers 
ancient  towns;  and  the  carved  choir-stalls. 

Nell  and  the  Mariner  were  so  fascinated  by  a  wooden 
gentleman  wearing  his  head  upside  down,  and  a  curiously 
mixed  animal  carrying  its  offspring  in  a  cloak,  that  I  found 
time  to  send  secretly  for  the  organist;  and  before  my  friends 
knew  what  was  happening,  the  cold  white  cathedral  was 
warmed  and  lighted  too,  by  such  thrilling  music  as  few  organs 
and  few  organists  can  make. 

When  it  was  over,  and  only  fleeting  echoes  left,  Miss  Rivers 
came  and  thanked  me. 

"That  was  your  thought,  of  course,"  said  she.  "None  of 
us  will  ever  forget." 

My  chauffeur  had  kept  Tibe,  and  when  we  reappeared,  was 
surprised  in  the  act  of  fitting  a  pair  of  spare  goggles  on  to  the 
dog.  Aunt  Fay  was  delighted  with  the  effect,  and  a  photo 
graph  was  taken  before  we  were  allowed  to  start,  though  time 
was  beginning  to  be  an  object.  But,  as  the  Chaperon  cheer 
fully  remarked,  "Tibe  and  tide  wait  for  no  man." 

"What  does  'groote  oppruiming'  mean,  written  up  every 
where  in  the  shops  ?"  she  inquired  eagerly,  as  the  car  flashed 
through  street  after  street. 

I  told  her  that  in  a  Dutch  town  it  was  equivalent  to  the 
"summer  sales"  in  London,  and  she  seemed  satisfied,  though 
I  doubt  if  she  knows  more  of  London  than  of  Rotterdam. 
But  she  and  the  girls  wanted  everything  that  they  saw  in  the 
show  windows,  and  I  found  that,  before  we  left  Haarlem,  the 
Mariner's  purse  would  again  be  opened  wide  by  the  hypnotic 
spell  of  Aunt  Fay. 

In  a  thirty  horse-power  car  we  were  not  long  on  the  way  out 
to  Brederode,  though  I  took  her  slowly  through  the  charming 
Bloemendaal  district,  giving  the  strangers  plenty  of  time  to 
admiie  the  quaintly  built,  flower-draped  country  houses  half 


RUDOLPH  BREDERODE'S  POINT  OF  VIEW    167 

drowned  in  the  splendid  forest  where  Druids  worshiped  once, 
and  to  find  out  for  themselves  that  the  dark  yellow  billows  in 
the  background  were  dunes  hiding  the  sea. 

We  left  the  car  in  front  of  the  shady  inn,  and  ordered  coffee 
to  be  ready  when  we  should  come  back  —  coffee,  with  plenty 
of  cream,  and  a  kind  of  sugared  cake,  which  has  been  loved 
bv  Haarlemers  since  the  days  when  the  poor,  deluded  ladies 
of  the  town  baked  their  best  dainties  for  the  Spaniards  who 
planned  their  murder. 

It  was  natural  to  play  guide  on  the  way  to  the  dear  old 
copper  and  purple  and  green-gold  ruin,  ivy-curtained  from 
the  tower  roofs  to  the  mossy  moat. 

This  was  my  first  visit  to  the  place  for  a  year  or  two,  and  I 
longed  to  take  the  One  Girl  apart,  to  tell  her  of  my  fantastic 
ancestor,  the  Water  Beggar,  of  whom  I  am  proud  despite  his 
faults  and  eccentricities;  to  recall  stories  of  the  past;  the 
origin  of  our  name  "Brede  Rode,"  broad  rood;  how  it,  and  the 
lands,  were  given  as  a  reward,  and  many  other  things.  But 
instead,  I  made  myself  agreeable  to  the  Chaperon,  and  saved 
Tibe  on  three  separate  occasions  from  joining  the  bright 
reflections  and  the  water-lilies  in  the  pond. 

I  sat  by  Nell  at  a  table  afterwards,  however,  and  she  had  to 
pour  coffee  for  me,  because  she  was  doing  that  kind  office 
for  the  rest;  and  as  the  sugar  tongs  had  been  forgotten,  she 
popped  me  in  a  lump  of  sugar  with  her  own  fingers  before  she 
stopped  to  think.  Then,  she  looked  as  if  she  would  have  liked 
to  fish  it  out  again,  but,  being  softer  than  her  heart,  it  had 
melted,  and  I  got  it  in  spite  of  her. 

We  drove  back  through  the  forest  in  a  green,  translucent 
glimmer,  like  light  under  the  sea,  and  there  was  little  time  to 
dress  for  dinner  when  I  brought  them  to  anchor  for  the  night. 
The  nice  old  hotel,  with  its  Delft  plates  half  covering  the 
walls,  its  alcoves  and  unexpected  stairways  with  green  bal 
usters,  and  its  old  dining-room  looking  on  a  prim  garden, 


168  THE   CHAPERON 

pleased  the  eyes  which  find  all  things  in  Hollow  Land  in 
teresting. 

It  was  a  long  dinner,  with  many  courses,  such  as  Dutch 
men  love;  still,  when  we  finished,  daylight  lingered.  In  the  fan 
tastic  square  with  its  crowding  varieties  of  capricious  Dutch 
architecture,  the  cathedral  was  cut  black  and  sharp  out  of  a 
sky  of  beaten  gold,  and  Coster's  statue  wore  a  glittering  halo. 
Under  their  archways  of  green,  the  canals  were  on  fire  with 
sunset,  their  flames  quenched  in  the  thick  moss  which  clothed 
their  walls;  the  red-brown  color  of  paved  streets,  and  the 
houses  with  their  pointed  facades  in  many  steps,  burned  also, 
as  if  they  were  made  of  rose-and-purple  porphyry  instead  of 
common  bricks,  while  each  pane  of  each  window  blazed  like  a 
separate  gem. 

It  was  a  good  ending  to  a  good  day,  and  though  I  had  ac 
complished  nothing  definite,  I  was  happy. 

Next  morning  I  had  the  car  ready  early,  and  took  every 
one  for  a  spin  through  the  Hout,  which  reminded  them  of  the 
Bois,  or  what  the  Bois  would  be  if  pretty  houses  were  scattered 
over  it  like  fallen  leaves. 

We  stopped  in  Haarlem  after  that  last  spin  only  long  enough 
to  do  reverence  to  Franz  Hals,  and  the  collection  of  his  work 
which  is  the  immediate  jewel  of  the  city's  soul. 

It  was  pretty  to  watch  Nell  scraping  acquaintance  with  the 
bold,  good-humored  officers  and  archers,  and  bland  municipal 
magnates  whom  Hals  has  made  to  live  on  canvas.  She  looked  the 
big,  stalwart  fellows  in  the  eye,  but  half  shyly,  as  a  girl  regards  a 
man  to  whom  she  thinks,  yet  is  not  quite  sure,  she  ought  to  bow. 

"Why,  their  faces  are  familiar.  I  seem  to  have  known  them," 
I  heard  her  murmur,  and  ventured  an  explanation  of  the 
mystery,  over  her  shoulder. 

"You  do  know  them,"  I  said.  "Their  eyes  are  using  the 
eyes  of  their  descendants  for  windows,  every  day  in  the  streets. 
Holland  isn't  making  new  types." 


We  stopped  at  Haarlem  only  loncj  enough  to  do  reverence 
to  Franz  Hals 


RUDOLPH  BREDERODE'S  POINT  OF  VIEW    169 

She  turned  to  look  me  up  and  down,  with  a  flicker  of  long 
lashes.  Then  she  sighed 

"What  a  pity!" 

Perhaps  I  deserved  it,  for  I  had  brought  it  on  myself. 
Nevertheless,  sweet  Phyllis  pitied  me. 

"What  surprise  have  you  got  for  us  next,  Sir  Skipper  ?"  she 
asked  brightly.  "Mr.  Starr  says  that  no  day  will  be  complete 
without  a  surprise  from  you ;  and  we  depend  upon  you  for  our 
route  as  part  of  the  surprise. " 

"I  thought  Mr.  Starr  was  making  out  our  route,"  remarked 
Nell  to  a  tall  archer  of  Franz  Hals. 

"If  I've  contrived  to  create  that  impression,  I've  been 
clever,"  said  the  Mariner.  "In  fact,  I  would  have  preferred 
you  to  think  me  responsible,  as  long  as  the  route  proved  satis 
factory.  Of  course,  whenever  anything  went  wrong,  I  should 
have  casually  let  drop  that  it  was  Alb's  idea.  But,  as  you 
mention  the  subject  in  his  presence,  I  must  admit  that  he  has 
made  several  suggestions,  and  I've  humored  him  by  adopting 
them,  subject  to  your  approval. 

"Does  the  name  of  Aalsmeer  convey  anything  to  your 
minds  ?"  I  asked.  But  all  shook  their  heads  except  Nell,  who 
appeared  absorbed  in  making  a  spy-glass  of  her  hand,  through 
which  to  gaze  at  her  jolly  archer. 

"Then  it  shall  be  this  day's  surprise,"  I  said.  "I  won't 
tell  you  anything;  but  you  needn't  be  ashamed  of  ignorance, 
for  all  the  world  is  in  the  same  boat,  and  you  won't  find  Aals 
meer  in  guide-books.  Yet  there  isn't  a  place  in  the  Nether 
lands  prettier  or  more  Dutch. " 

"Good-by,  Franz  Hals,  perhaps  forever.  We  leave  you  to  seek 
pastures  new, "  said  Starr.  "Come  along,  Miss  Van  Buren. " 

So  she  came,  and  I  drove  them  in  the  car  to  the  quay, 
where  I  directed  my  chauffeur  to  go  on  to  Amsterdam,  and  be 
ready  to  report  for  order  at  the  harbor  of  the  Sailing  and 
Rowing  Club. 


XIV 

THERE   is  nothing  remarkable  in  the  broad  canal 
that  connects  Haarlem  with  Amsterdam,  and  when 
we  had  started,  Miss  Van  Buren  read  aloud  to  the 
assembled  party.   Her  book  was  Motley,  and  the 
subject  that  siege  which,  though  it  ended  in  tragic  failure, 
makes  as  fine  music  in  history  as  the  siege  of  Leiden.  Mean 
while,  as  she  read,  we  skimmed  through  the  bright  water, 
which  tinkled  like  shattered  crystals  as  we  broke  its  clear 
mirror  with  our  prow. 

There  were  few  houses  along  shore,  but  far  in  the  distance, 
seen  across  wide,  flat  expanses,  shadow  villages  and  tapering 
spires  were  painted  in  violet  on  the  horizon  —  such  a  shim 
mering  horizon  as  we  of  the  lowlands  love,  and  yearn  for  when 
we  sojourn  in  mountain  lands.  At  Halfweg,  a  little  cluster  of 
humble  dwellings,  I  turned  out  of  the  main  canal,  skirting  the 
side  of  the  Haarlemmer-meer  Polder,  opposite  to  that  which 
we  had  followed  yesterday. 

"When  is  the  surprise  coming  ?"  asked  Phyllis  at  last,  her 
curiosity  piqued  by  the  slowness  of  progress  in  this  small 
canal. 

"Now,"  said  I,  smiling,  as  I  stopped  at  an  insignificant 
landing-place;  "this  is  where  we  go  on  shore  to  find  it." 

"Methinks,  Alb,  you  are. playing  us  false,"  said  the  Mariner. 
"You're  about  to  lead  us  into  a  trap  of  dulness." 

"I've  a  mind  to  stop  on  board  and  finish  the  chapter,"  said 
Nell. 

"You'll  repent  it  if  you  do,"  I  ventured.  Yet  I  think  she 
would  have  stayed  if  her  stepsister  had  not  urged. 

170 


RUDOLPH  BREDERODE'S  POINT  OF  VIEW    171 

We  walked  along  an  ordinary  village  street  for  some  dis 
tance;  it  was  dusty  and  unbeautiful.  Even  Miss  Rivers  had 
begun  to  look  doubtful,  when  suddenly  we  came  in  sight  of  a 
toy  fairyland  —  a  Dutch  fairyland,  yet  a  place  to  excite  the 
wonder  even  of  a  Dutchman  used  to  living  half  in,  half  out  of 
water. 

From  where  the  party  stopped,  arrested  by  the  curious 
vision,  stretched  away,  as  far  as  eyes  could  follow,  an  earthern 
dyke,  bordered  on  either  hand  by  a  lily-fringed  toy  canal,  just 
wide  enough  for  a  toy  rowboat  to  pass.  Beyond  the  twin,  toy 
canals  —  again  on  either  hand  —  was  set  a  row  of  toy  houses, 
each  standing  in  a  little  square  of  radiant  garden,  which  was 
repeated  upside  down  in  the  sky-blue  water,  not  only  of  the 
twin  canals,  but  of  the  still  more  tiny,  subsidiary  canals  which 
flowed  round  the  flowery  squares,  cutting  each  off  from  its 
fellow. 

Tibe,  delighted  with  Aalsmeer  and  a  dog  he  saw  in  the  dis 
tance,  darted  along  the  straight,  level  stretch  of  dyke,  which 
every  now  and  then  heaved  itself  up  into  a  camel-backed 
bridge,  under  which  toy  boats  could  pass  from  the  right-hand 
water-street  to  the  left-hand  water-street.  We  followed,  but  on 
the  first  bridge  Nell  stopped  impulsively, 

"Do  you  know  we've  all  been  in  this  place  before  ?  It's 
Willow-pattern-land.  Don't  you  recognize  it  ?" 

"Of  course,"  the  Mariner  assured  her,  "You  and  I  used 
to  play  here  together  when  we  were  children.  You  remember 
that  blue  boat  of  ours  ?  And  see,  there's  our  house  —  the  pink 
one,  with  the  green-and-white-lozenge  shutters,  and  the  thick 
et  of  hydrangeas  reflected  in  the  water.  Isn't  it  good  to  come 
back  to  our  own  ?  " 

Thus  he  snatched  her  from  me,  just  as  my  surprise  was 
succeeding,  and  made  a  place  for  himself  with  her,  in  my  toy 
fairyland. 

"It's  true!  One  does  feel  like  one  of  the  little  blue  people 


172  THE   CHAPERON 

that  live  in  a  willow-pattern  plate,"  said  Phyllis,  as  Nell  and 
Starr  sauntered  on  ahead.  "It's  perfectly  Chinese  here,  but 
so  cozy;  I  believe  you  had  the  place  made  a  few  minutes  ago, 
to  please  us,  and  as  soon  as  we  turn  our  backs  it  will  disappear. 
It  can't  be  real." 

"Those  men  think  it's  real,"  said  I.  There  were  several, 
rowing  along  the  canals  in  brightly  painted  boats,  with  brass 
milk  cans,  and  knife-grinding  apparatus,  calmly  unaware  that 
they  or  their  surroundings  were  out  of  the  common.  Each 
house  on  its  square  island  having  its  own  swing-bridge  of 
planks,  the  men  on  the  water  had  to  push  each  bridge  out  of 
the  way  as  they  reached  it;  but  the  trick  was  done  with  the 
nose  of  the  boat,  and  cost  no  trouble.  Most  of  the  toy  bridges 
swung  back  into  place  when  the  boats  passed,  but  the  one 
nearest  us  remained  open,  and  as  we  looked,  walking  on  slow 
ly,  two  tiny  children  returning  from  school,  clattered  toward 
us  in  wooden  sabots,  along  the  narrow  dyke.  Opposite  the  dis 
arranged  bridge  they  stopped,  looking  wistfully  across  at  a 
green-and-blue  house,  standing  in  a  grove  of  pink-and-yellow 
roses,  shaded  with  ruddy  copper  beeches,  and  delicate  white 
trees  like  young  girls  trooping  to  their  first  communion. 

Evidently  this  was  the  children's  home,  but  they  found 
themselves  shut  off  from  it;  and  standing  hand-in-hand,  with 
their  book-bags  tossed  over  their  shoulders,  they  uttered  a 
short,  wailing  cry.  As  if  in  answer  to  an  accustomed  signal,  a 
pink-cheeked  girl  who,  of  course,  had  been  cleaning  some 
thing,  came  to  the  rescue,  mop  in  hand.  She  touched  the  bridge 
with  her  foot;  the  bridge  swung  into  place;  without  a  word 
the  dolls  crossed,  and  were  swallowed  up  in  a  narrow,  sky- 
blue  corridor. 

We  wandered  on,  turning  our  heads  from  one  side  to  the 
other,  I  reveling  in  the  delight  of  the  others.  Though  Aals- 
meer  is  but  a  stone's  throw  from  Amsterdam,  it  seems  as  far 
out  of  the  world  as  if,  to  get  to  it,  you  had  jumped  off  the 


RUDOLPH  BREDERODE'S  POINT  OF  VIEW    173 

earth  into  some  obscurely  twinkling  star,  where  people,  things, 
and  customs  were  completely  different  from  those  on  our 
planet. 

If  there  had  been  only  one  of  the  queer  island-houses  to 
see,  it  would  have  been  worth  a  journey;  but  each  one  we 
came  to,  in  its  double  street  of  glass,  seemed  more  quaint  than 
that  we  left  behind.  Some  were  painted  green  or  blue,  with 
white  rosettes,  like  the  sugar  ornaments  on  children's  birthday 
cakes.  Some  were  so  curtained  with  roses,  wistaria,  or  purple 
clematis,  that  it  was  difficult  to  spy  out  the  color  underneath. 
Some  were  half  hidden  behind  tall  hedges  of  double  holly 
hocks,  like  crisp  bunches  of  pink  and  golden  crepe;  others  had 
triumphal  arches  of  crimson  fuchsias;  but  best  of  all  the  is 
land  shows  were  the  dwarf  box-trees,  cut  in  every  imaginable 
shape.  There  were  thrones,  and  chairs,  and  giant  vases;  harps 
and  violins;  and  a  menagerie  of  animals  which  seemed  to  have 
come  under  a  spell  and  been  turned  into  leafage  in  the  act 
of  jumping,  flying,  and  hopping.  There  were  lions,  swans, 
dragons,  giraffes,  parrots,  eagles,  cats,  together  in  a  happy 
family  of  foliage;  and  when  I  told  the  Chaperon  that  the  peo 
ple  of  Aalsmeer  were  garden-artists,  as  well  as  market-gar 
deners,  she  insisted  on  stopping.  Nothing  would  satisfy  her 
but  the  Mariner  must  cross  the  bridge,  knock  at  the  door  of  a 
little  red  house,  and  buy  a  box-tree  baby  elephant,  which  she 
thought  would  be  enchanting  in  a  pot,  as  a  kind  of  figurehead 
on  board  "Waterspin." 

Nor  was  I  allowed  to  remain  idle.  When  I  had  helped 
him  bargain  for  the  leafy  beast,  I  had  to  go  down  on  my  knees, 
roll  up  my  sleeves,  and  claw  water-lilies  out  from  the  canal, 
which  they  fringed  in  luscious  clusters.  This  I  did  while  men 
and  maids  in  painted  boats  heaped  with  rubies  piled  on  emer 
alds  (which  were  strawberries  in  beds  of  their  own  leaves) 
laughed  at  me.  Boat  peddlers  came  and  went,  too,  with  stores 
of  shining  tin,  or  blue,  brown,  and  green  pottery  that  glittered 


174  THE   CHAPERON 

in  the  afternoon  sun.  Some  of  them  helped  me,  some  jeered  in 
Dutch  at  "these  foreigners  with  their  childish  ways." 

In  the  end  I  was  luckier  than  Starr,  for  he  had  to  march 
under  the  weight  of  his  green  elephant,  half  hidden  behind  it, 
as  behind  a  screen,  while  my  lilies  were  so  popular  with  the 
ladies  that  not  even  as  a  favor  would  I  have  been  allowed  to 
carry  one.  All  three,  if  left  to  themselves,  would  have  lingered 
for  hours,  choosing  which  house  they  would  live  in,  or  watch 
ing  families  of  ducks,  or  counting  strewn  flowers  floating  down 
the  blue  water  as  stars  float  down  the  sky. 

"I  believe,  Nephew,  that  I  must  ask  you  to  buy  me  a  house 
in  Aalsmeer  to  come  and  play  dolls  in,"  announced  Aunt 
Fay.  "Don't  you  suppose,  Jonkheer,  that  one  could  be  got 
cheap  ?  —  not  that  that  need  be  a  consideration  to  dear 
Ronny!" 

"I'll  find  out  —  later, "  I  assured  her,  answering  a  despair 
ing  look  of  Starr's  from  between  the  green  tusks  of  his  ele 
phant. 

"Oh,  please,  now,"  urged  the  gentle  voice  which  every  one 
but  Tibe  obeys;  "because,  you  know,  I'm  not  strong,  and 
when  I  set  my  heart  on  a  thing,  and  suffer  disappointment,  it 
makes  me  ill.  If  I  were  ill  I  should  have  to  go  home,  and 
those  darling  girls  couldn't  finish  the  trip." 

"You  haven't  had  time  to  set  your  heart  upon  a  house 
here,"  said  Starr.  "You  only  thought  of  it  a  minute  ago." 

"We  Scotch  have  so  much  heart,  dearest,  that  it  goes  out 
to  things  —  and  people  —  in  less  than  a  minute.  I'm  a  victim 
to  mine.  It  would  be  a  pity  - 

"Oh,  do  go  to  the  head  fairy  at  once,  Alb,  and  demand  a 
cheap  house  for  my  aunt  to  play  dolls  in,"  groaned  Starr.  "If 
he  hasn't  got  one,  he  must  build  it. " 

"He  could  easily  do  that,"  said  I.  "Every  now  and  then  a 
new  island  is  formed  in  this  water-world,  and  the  nearest 
householder  seizes  it,  claiming  it  as  his  own,  on  much  the 


RUDOLPH  BREDERODE'S  POINT  OF  VIEW    175 

same  basis  that  Napoleon  claimed  the  Netherlands.  Then  he 
digs  it  into  an  extra  garden  or  strawberry  bed.  But  he  would 
sacrifice  his  vegetables  if  he  saw  a  prospect  of  making  money. 
It  might  amuse  Lady  MacNairne  to  do  a  little  amateur  mar 
ket  gardening,  though  they  say  slugs  are  unusually  fat  and 
juicy  in  Aalsmeer." 

"Oh!  Maybe  I'd  better  wait  and  see  a  few  more  places 
before  I  decide,  then,"  exclaimed  the  lady.  "Not  that  I'm 
afraid  of  slugs  myself,  only  I'm  sure  they  wouldn't  agree 
with  Tibe.  And  besides,  it  would  be  dull  for  him  in  winter." 

"Not  at  all,"  said  I,  having  discovered  that  the  one  possible 
way  of  detaching  the  lady  from  a  pet  scheme  is  by  advising 
her  to  cling  to  it.  "Everybody  skates  then,  instead  of  going 
about  in  boats,  and  no  one  has  really  seen  Aalsmeer  who 
hasn't  seen  it  on  a  winter  evening.  Then,  in  front  of  each 
island,  on  a  low  square  post,  is  set  a  lighted  lantern.  Imagine 
the  effect  of  a  double  line  of  such  lights  all  the  way  down  the 
long,  long  canal,  each  calling  up  a  ghost-light  from  under  the 
blue  ice." 

The  tyrant  shivered.  "It  sounds  lovely,"  she  said;  "but 
I  think  I  will  wait.  Come,  girls,  we'd  better  be  getting  back 
to  the  boat." 

"Sweet  are  the  uses  of  an  Albatross,"  I  heard  Starr  murmur. 

We  turned  our  backs  on  the  water  fairies'  domain,  and 
went  into  the  world  again.  In  the  long  commonplace  street 
of  shops  through  which  we  had  passed  in  coming,  Aunt  Fay 
stopped.  She  had  torn  a  silk  flounce  on  her  petticoat,  and 
would  thank  me  to  act  as  interpreter  in  buying  a  box  of  safety- 
pins.  I  made  the  demand,  and  could  not  see  why  the  two 
girls  and  their  chaperon  had  to  stifle  laughter  when  an  earnest, 
flaxen-haired  maiden  began  industriously  to  count  the  pins  in 
the  box. 

"She  says  she  has  to  do  that,  because  they  are  sold  by  the 
piece, "  I  explained ;  but  they  laughed  a  great  deal  more. 


176  THE   CHAPERON 

It  was  a  pity  they  could  not  see  the  meer  which  rings  in 
their  fairyland  —  a  meer  dotted  with  high-standing,  prim 
little  islands,  which,  though  made  by  nature,  not  man,  have 
much  the  same  effect,  on  a  larger  scale,  as  the  clipped  box- 
trees  on  show  in  the  gardens.  But  to  have  taken  "Lorelei"  that 
way  would  have  made  it  too  late  for  a  visit  to  Zaandam ;  and  I 
thought  Zaandam,  despite  its  miles  of  windmills  and  the  boast 
ed  hut  of  Peter  the  Great,  not  worth  a  separate  expedition.  So 
I  turned  back  to  Halfweg,  and  from  there  slid  into  a  side  canal 
which  bore  us  toward  that  immense  waterway  cut  for  great 
ships  —  the  North  Sea  Canal.  There  was  a  smell  of  salt  in  the 
air,  and  a  heavy  perfume  from  slow-going  peat-boats.  Gulls 
wheeled  over  "Lorelei"  so  low  that  we  could  have  reached  up 
and  caught  their  dangling  coral  feet.  A  passing  cloud  veiled 
the  sun  with  gray  tissue  which  streaked  the  water  with  purple 
shadow,  and  freckled  it  with  rain.  Passengers  on  Amsterdam- 
bound  ships  that  loomed  above  us  like  leviathans,  stared 
down  at  our  little  craft  and  the  bluff-browed  barge  we  towed . 
Here  we  were  in  the  full  stream  of  sea-going  traffic  and  com 
merce;  and  afar  off  a  mass  of  towers  showed  where  Amster 
dam  toiled  and  made  merry. 

But  we  were  not  yet  bound  for  Amsterdam.  Twisting  north 
ward  as  the  details  of  the  city  were  sketched  upon  the  sky, 
we  turned  into  the  canal  which  leads  to  Zaandam  of  the  self- 
satisfied,  painted  houses.  There  was  just  time  for  a  swift  run 
down  the  river,  and  a  call  at  one  of  that  famous  battalion  of 
windmills  whose  whirling  sails  fill  the  air  with  a  ceaseless 
whirr,  like  the  flight  of  birds  at  sunset;  then  a  walk  to  the 
hovel  where  Peter  the  Great  lived  and  learned  to  be  a  ship 
wright.  But  when  they  had  seen  it,  the  ladies  Would  not  allow 
it  to  be  called  by  so  mean  a  name. 

"What  a  shame  they  found  out  who  he  was  so  soon !"  said 
Nell.  "And  he  had  to  leave  this  dear  little  bandbox  to  go 
back  to  a  mere  every-day  palace.  I  wouldn't  have  been  driven 


RUDOLPH  BREDERODE'S  POINT  OF  VIEW    177 

away  by  a  curious  crowd.  I  should  just  have  marched  through 
with  my  nose  in  the  air. " 

"His  nose  wasn't  of  that  kind,"  said  I.  "I  suppose  he's 
the  earliest  martyr  to  notoriety  on  record.  But  perhaps  he 
had  learned  all  he  wanted  to  know;  and  I'm  not  sure  he  was 
sorry  to  go  back  to  his  palace,  which,  judging  by  all  accounts, 
wasn't  a  grand  one  in  those  days.  You'll  see  finer  houses  even 
in  Amsterdam." 

And  an  hour  later  she  was  seeing  them. 


XV 

AISTERDAM  was  in  full  glory  that  evening,  in  the 
strange  radiance  that  shines  for  her,  as  for  Venice, 
when  red  wine  of  sunset  and  purple  wine  of  night 
mingle  together  in  the  gold  cup  of  the  west. 
At  such  a  time  she  is  a  second  Venice,  not  because  she   is 
built  upon  piles  and  stands  upon  many  islands  linked  by 
intricate  bridges,  but  because  of  her  glow  and  dazzle,  her 
myriad  lights  breaking  suddenly  through  falling  dusk,  to 
splash  the  rose  and  violet  of  the  clouds  with  gilded  flecks,  and 
drop  silver  into  glimmering  canals,  as  if  there  were  some 
festive  illumination;  because  of  her  huge,  colorful  buildings, 
and  her  old,  old  houses  bowing  and  bending  backward  and 
forward  to  whisper  into  each  other's  windows  across  the  dark 
ness  of  narrow  streets  and  burning  lines  of  water. 

The  fierce  traffic  of  the  day  was  over,  but  the  dam  roared 
and  rumbled,  in  vast  confusion,  with  its  enormous  structures 
black  against  the  moldering  ashes  of  sunset. 

"A  cathedral  without  a  tower;  a  palace  without  a  king;  a 
bishop's  house  without  a  bishop;  a  girl  without  a  lover,"  is  the 
saying  that  Amsterdammers  have  about  the  dam;  and  I  re 
peated  it  as  we  drove  through,  while  my  friends  searched  the 
verification  of  the  saw.  All  was  plain  enough,  except  the  "girl 
without  a  lover";  but  when  they  learned  that  she  was  a  stone 
girl  on  a  pedestal  too  constricted  for  two  figures  they  pro 
nounced  her  part  of  the  distich  far-fetched. 

Undaunted  by  all  they  had  done  that  day,  they  would  go 
out  again  after  dinner,  when  Amsterdam  was  blue  and  silver 
and  shining  steel  in  the  quiet  streets,  with  a  flare  of  yellow 

178 


RUDOLPH  BREDERODE'S  POINT  OF  VIEW    179 

light  in  the  lively  ones,  where  people  crowded  the  roadways, 
listening  to  the  crash  of  huge  hand-organs,  or  shopping  until 
ten  o'clock. 

We  supped  at  the  biggest  cafe  in  Europe;  and  then  for 
contrast,  since  we  were  in  a  city  of  contrasts,  I  took  them  to 
the  quaintest  inn  of  Amsterdam  —  a  queer  little  pointed- 
roofed  house  hiding  the  painted  "Wilderman"  over  his  low- 
roofed  door,  behind  a  big  archway,  in  the  midst  of  all  that  is 
most  modern,  but  with  an  interior  of  a  rich  gold-brown  gloom, 
lit  by  glints  of  brass  and  gleams  of  pewter  which  would  have 
delighted  Rembrandt. 

Next  day  it  was  to  his  house,  in  the  strange,  teeming 
Jewish  quarter  that  we  went  first  of  all;  but  Nell  and 
Phyllis  were  heartsick  to  find  the  rooms,  once  rich  in  treas 
ures,  piled  untidily  with  "curiosities"  of  no  great  beauty  or 
value. 

Then,  by  way  of  a  change  after  the  Old  Town,  and  the 
harbor  with  its  queer  houses,  like  drunken  men  trying  to  prop 
each  other  up,  I  chose  the  Heerengracht,  all  the  city  has  of  the 
richest  and  most  exclusive.  But  the  tall  mansions,  with  their 
air  of  reserve  and  their  selfishly  hidden  gardens,  struck  the  eye 
coldly;  and  not  even  my  tales  of  tapestry,  lace,  old  silver,  and, 
above  all,  Persian  carpets,  to  be  seen  behind  the  veiled  win 
dows,  could  arouse  the  ladies'  curiosity.  It  was  well  enough 
to  have  built  Amsterdam  in  concentric  crescents,  with  the 
Heerengracht  in  the  center,  and  to  say  arbitrarily  that  the 
further  you  went  outwards,  the  further  you  descended  in  the 
social  scale.  That  distinction  might  do  for  the  townspeople; 
as  for  them,  they  would  rather  live  in  a  black  and  brown  house 
in  the  Keizergracht,  with  a  crane  and  pulley  in  one  of  the 
gables,  and  white  frames  on  the  windows,  than  in  this  dull 
street  of  wealth  and  fashion. 

"Even  half  a  house,  with  a  whole  door  of  my  own,  like 
most  middle-class  Dutch  houses,  would  be  nicer,"  said  Nell. 


180  THE   CHAPERON 

"Yes,  I  could  be  happy  in  *a  boven  huis, '  with  my  little  stair 
way  and  hall  quite  to  myself. " 

But  when  I  had  shown  her  my  favorite  bit  of  Amsterdam, 
she  became  unfaithful  to  the  Keizergracht,  and  its  picturesque 
fellows. 

To  reach  this  bit,  we  turned  from  the  roar  of  a  noisy  street, 
and  were  at  once  in  the  calm  of  a  monastic  cloister. 

It  was  like  opening  a  door  in  the  twentieth  century,  and 
falling  down  a  step  into  the  seventeenth,  to  find  Time  lying 
enchanted  in  a  spell  of  magic  sleep. 

What  we  saw  was  a  spacious  quadrangle  with  an  old- 
fashioned,  flowery  garden  in  the  midst,  and  ranged  round  it 
pretty  little  houses,  each  one  a  gem  of  individuality.  There 
was  a  church,  too,  a  charming,  forgotten-looking  church;  and 
in  the  quadrangle  nothing  stirred  but  gleams  of  light  on 
polished  windows  and  birds  which  hopped  about  on  the  pave 
ment  as  if  it  had  been  made  for  them. 

"I  believe  they're  the  inhabitants  of  the  place,  who've 
hurriedly  changed  into  birds  just  while  we  are  here,  but  will 
change  back  into  little,  trim  old  ladies  and  old  gentlemen," 
whispered  Nell;  for  it  seemed  sacrilege  to  break  the  silence. 

With  that,  a  house  door  opened,  and  just  such  an  old  lady 
as  she  described  came  out. 

"Oh,  she  didn't  know  we  were  here.  She  won't  have  time 
to  get  into  her  birdhood  now,"  chuckled  Nell,  "so  she's  making 
the  best  of  it.  But  see,  she's  turned  to  warn  her  husband." 

"She  hasn't  any  husband,"  said  I. 

"How  can  you  tell  ?"  asked  the  girl. 

"If  she  had,  she  couldn't  live  here, "  I  explained,"  because  this 
is  the  Begynenhof ,  half  almshouse,  half  nunnery,  which  has  been 
kept  up  since  our  great  year,  1574.  But  oddly  enough  the  chapel 
of  the  sisterhood  who  established  it,  has  been  turned  into  an 
English  church.  Queer,  in  the  little  Catholic  village  hidden 
away  from  the  great  city ;  but  so  it  is.  And  isn't  it  a  serene  spot  ?" 


RUDOLPH  BREDERODE'S  POINT  OF  VIEW    181 

"Almost  nicer  than  Aalsmeer,"  murmured  the  Chaperon. 
"I  wonder  if  - 

But  Starr  was  at  the  door  of  the  exit  before  she  could 
finish  wondering. 

The  palace,  more  suitable  for  a  magnificent  town  hall  than 
a  regal  dwelling,  was  the  next  violent  contrast  in  my  bag  of 
colors;  but,  royal  though  it  was,  there  was  nothing  in  it  they 
cared  for  much  except  the  throne-room,  which  they  had  to 
admit  was  not  to  be  surpassed.  There  were  a  few  mantel 
pieces  too,  which  the  Chaperon  thought  she  would  accept  from 
the  Queen  as  presents;  but  as  for  the  carpets,  they  were  no  less 
than  tragic,  and  it  would  be  better  to  go  about  opening  bridges, 
or  laying  dull  cornerstones,  then  stay  at  home  and  look  at  them. 

My  way  of  showing  Amsterdam  was  to  work  slowly  up  to  a 
grand  crescendo  effect;  and  the  crescendo  was  the  Ryks 
Museum.  We  had  two  days  of  Amsterdam  (the  second  was 
mostly  spent  at  the  diamond  cutters')  before  I  suggested  the 
museum. 

Aunt  Fay  said,  when  I  did,  that  she  hated  such  places. 
They  gave  her  a  headache,  a  heartache,  and  a  bad  cold.  But 
she  did  not  hate  the  Ryks  Museum,  and  delighted  the  Mariner 
by  picking  out  the  best  Rembrandts.  After  our  first  day  at  the 
museum  (which  we  gave  to  the  pictures)  she  could  have  had 
anything  she  asked  from  her  dearest  Ronny. 

Then  there  were  the  Dutch  rooms,  and  the  rooms  where 
the  wax  people  live.  I  did  not  speak  of  the  wax  people  until 
the  ladies  were  tired,  therefore  they  were  cold  to  the  idea  of 
wax  figures,  even  when  they  heard  that  the  Queen  had  been 
five  or  six  times  to  see  them. 

"Perhaps  she  never  saw  Madame  Tussaud's,"  remarked 
Miss  Rivers,  in  a  superior,  British  way;  but  the  magic  word 
was  spoken  when  I  said  that  the  wax  people  wore  every  variety 
of  costume  to  be  found  in  Holland,  and  I  was  ordered  to 
conduct  the  party  to  them  at  once. 


182  THE   CHAPERON 

Instantly  they  felt  the  alarming  fascination  of  the  wax 
faces,  whose  hard  eyes  say,  "At  night  we  live,  and  walk  about 
as  you  are  doing  now":  and  at  the  closing  hour  Aunt  Fay  and 
the  two  girls  had  to  be  forcibly  torn  away. 

"Is  it  possible  that  some  day  we  shall  see  live  people 
dressed  as  those  wax  people  are  ?"  she  exclaimed. 

"You  will  see  them  by  the  hundred,"  I  answered. 

She  paused  a  moment.  "Miss  Van  Buren  wants  to  know 
if  one  can  buy  any  special  costume  to  which  one  takes  a  fancy." 

"Yes,  if  one  doesn't  mind  what  one  pays,"  I  answered; 
"but  I  was  nettled  that  the  girl  could  not  have  asked  so  simple 
a  question  herself.  This  is  not  the  first  time  she  has  employed 
a  go-between,  to  find  out  something  which  I  alone  know, 
and  doubtless  there  will  be  more  occasions,  if  I  let  things  go 
on  as  they  are  going  now.  But  I  don't  mean  to  let  them  go  on. 
What  I  shall  do,  I  haven't  made  up  my  mind;  yet  some  step 
must  be  taken,  if  I  am  to  reap  anything  from  this  trip  except  a 
harvest  of  snubbings. 

It  was  only  a  little  thing  that  she  should  question  me 
through  her  chaperon,  regarding  the  costumes;  but  it  was  one 
more  straw  in  a  rapidly  growing  bundle.  And  on  the  way 
back  to  the  hotel  from  the  museum  she  pretended  not  to  hear 
when  I  spoke.  She  discussed  with  Starr,  and  not  with  me, 
the  splendors  and  the  crudities  of  Amsterdam,  and  asked  if 
he  didn't  detect  here  and  there  a  likeness  to  some  old  bit  of 
New  York  —  "New  Amsterdam."  Of  course  he  agreed;  and 
they  talked  of  the  "Dutchness"  of  Poughkeepsie  and  Albany, 
and  Hudson,  and  many  other  places  which  I  never  heard  of. 
No  wonder  that  there  was  triumph  in  the  glance  he  threw  me. 
Alb  (he  was  thinking,  no  doubt)  was  not  getting  much  fun  for 
his  money.  And  it  was  true.  Nevertheless,  Alb  was  not  dis 
couraged.  He  was  making  up  his  mind  that  the  time  for  quiet 
patience  was  over,  as  the  skipper  of  "Lorelei"  had  engaged  for 
something  better. 


XVI 

Y  Jove,  here's  a  lark ! "  exclaimed  Starr,  at  the 
breakfast  table,  looking  up  from  the  Paris  Herald. 
It  was  at  the  Amstel  Hotel,  on  our  fourth 
morning,  and  he  and  I  were  taking  coffee  together, 
as  an  Ancient  Mariner  and  his  Albatross  should.  The  ladies  had 
not  yet  appeared,  for  they  were  breakfasting  in  their  rooms. 

"What's  up?"  I  asked. 

"It's  under  the  latest  news  of  your  Queen's  doings,"  said 
he,  and  began  to  read  aloud:  "  'Jonkheer  Brederode,  who  is 
equally  popular  in  English  and  Dutch  society  and  sporting 
circles,  has  taken  for  the  season  a  large  motor-boat,  in  which 
he  is  touring  the  waterways  of  Holland,  with  a  party  of  invited 
friends,  among  whom  is  Lady  MacNairne.  It  was  her  portrait, 
as  everybody  knows,  painted  by  the  clever  American  artist, 
Mr.  R.  L.  Starr,  which  was  so  much  admired  at  the  Paris 
Salon  this  spring. '  Funny,  how  they  strung  that  story  together, 
isn't  it  ?  But  it's  a  bore  —  er  —  in  the  circumstances,  their 
having  got  hold  of  my  aunt's  name." 

"People  who  weave  tangled  webs  mustn't  be  surprised  if 
they  get  caught  in  them  sometimes,"  said  I. 

"I  wonder  how  Miss  Van  Buren  will  like  this  ?  She's  sure 
to  see  it,"  Starr  went  on,  reflectively. 

How  she  liked  it  mattered  more  to  me  than  to  anybody 
else,  because  if  she  disliked  it,  I  was  the  person  upon  whom 
her  vexation  would  be  visited.  But  there  was  a  still  more 
important  point  which  apparently  hadn't  come  under  the 
Mariner's  consideration.  How  wrould  Lady  MacNairne's  hus 
band  like  it  ? 

183 


184  THE   CHAPERON 

Evidently  Starr  doesn't  know  that  there  has  been  an  upset 
of  some  sort  between  Sir  Alec  and  the  charming  Fleda;  and 
as  Fleda  is  his  aunt,  bu  has  not  confided  in  her  nephew  (while 
she  has  in  me)  no  matter  what  trouble  the  newspaper  para 
graph  may  cause  for  the  entire  party,  it  would  be  a  breach  of 
confidence  for  me  to  enlighten  him. 

"By  Jove,"  I  said  to  myself,  "what  will  MacNairne  do  if 
he  sees  in  the  paper  that  his  wife,  who  has  run  away  from  home 
without  telling  him  where  she's  staying,  is  the  principal  guest 
on  board  a  boat  of  mine  ?  I  ought  to  warn  Starr  that  there 
may  be  a  crash,  but  I  can't." 

The  only  thing  I  could  do  was  to  pump  him,  in  the  hope 
that  he  knew  more  of  his  aunt's  affairs  than  I  supposed. 

"My  stock's  pretty  far  down  in  the  market  with  Miss  Van 
Buren  already,"  said  I.  "It  can't  go  lower.  I  wonder  how 
these  asses  think  of  such  nonsense  ?  But  I  suppose  it  came  of 
registering  'Lorelei'  in  my  name,  which  I  had  to  do,  to  use  the 
flag  of  the  Sailing  and  Rowing  Club  of  Rotterdam.  Somebody 
heard  of  the  boat's  being  registered  by  Rudolph  Brederode, 
and  voila  the  consequences.  But  where  is  Lady  MacNairne  ?" 

"Heavens,  don't  yell  at  the  top  of  your  voice,"  groaned 
Starr,  in  a  dreadful  whisper.  "There  may  be  some  one  at  the 
next  table  who  can  speak  English.  I've  had  an  awful  lesson, 
as  nobody  knows  better  than  you,  to  behave  in  a  restaurant  as 
if  I  were  at  church.  The  real  Lady  McN.,  who  is  not  up-stairs 
at  the  present  moment  breakfasting  with  Tibe,  may  be  in 
Kamschatka  for  all  I  know,  though  I  think  it  probable  she's 
not.  All  I  do  know  is  that  she's  never  answered  two  frantic 
telegrams  of  mine.  She's  not  at  home.  She  may  be  anywhere 
else  —  except  in  Holland,  where  she's  wanted." 

"It  would  be  awkward  if  she  should  turn  up  now,"  I  re 
marked. 

"Was  wanted,  I  ought  to  have  said.  But  she's  such  a  good 
pal,  I  should  fix  things  up  with  her  somehow." 


RUDOLPH  BREDERODE'S  POINT  OF  VIEW    185 

"I  doubt  if  you  would  with  her  husband,"  I  thought, 
though  aloud  I  said  nothing.  I  was  sure  now  that  he  was  in 
ignorance  of  the  situation,  blissful  ignorance,  since  he  could 
not  guess  what  developments  it  might  lead  to  for  him,  and  for 
the  Chaperon  whom  he  had  provided  at  such  cost. 

"If  anything  happens,  I  shall  have  to  help  him  through  it 
somehow,"  I  decided,  "as  it's  more  than  half  my  fault,  register 
ing  *  Lorelei '  in  my  name.  Besides,  I  can't  let  the  party  be 
broken  up,  until  I've  had  a  fair  chance  to  raise  Brederode 
stock  in  the  market." 

To  know  that  at  any  moment  Sir  Alec  MacNairne  might 
pounce  upon  us,  denounce  the  Chaperon  as  a  fraud,  disgust 
the  girls  with  Starr,  and  put  a  sudden  end  to  the  adventure  as 
far  as  the  two  men  in  it  were  concerned,  was  not  conducive  to 
appetite.  I  forgot  whether  I  had  just  begun  my  breakfast,  or 
just  finished  it,  but  in  either  case  it  interested  me  no  more 
than  eggs  and  toast  would  have  interested  Damocles  at  the 
moment  of  discovering  the  sword. 

"The  principal  thing  is  not  to  let  the  girls  see  the  Her  aid  >" 
said  Starr. 

I  wished  it  were  the  principal  thing;  still,  I  said  nothing, 
and  getting  up,  we  went  into  the  hall. 

"Miss  Van  Buren  would  think  it  cool  of  you,  perhaps,  if 
she  knew  you'd  registered  her  boat  in  your  name,"  said 
Starr,  taking  up  the  subject  again.  "She  wouldn't  under 
stand  - 

" What  would  Miss  Van  Buren  think  cool?"  asked  Miss 
Van  Buren's  voice  behind  us,  and  the  Mariner  started  as  if  we 
were  conspirators. 

"Oh,  nothing  particular,"  he  answered  limply. 

"Please  tell  me." 

"I'll  tell  you,"  I  said,  with  a  sudden  determination  that  she 
should  know  the  worst,  and  do  her  worst,  and  be  conquered 
by  something  stronger  than  her  prejudice.  The  tug-of-war 


186  THE   CHAPERON 

was  coming  between  us  now,  that  tug-of-war  I  had  been  ex 
pecting  and  almost  desiring. 

"I  registered  your  boat  in  my  name, "  J  said  calmly,  "and 
Starr  thinks  you  wouldn't  understand. " 

She  threw  up  her  head,  flushing.  "I  don't  understand." 

"It  gives  us  the  right  to  use  the  flag  of  my  club. " 

"We  could  have  got  on  without  it. " 

"Often  with  grave  inconvenience. " 

"I  would  have  risked  that." 

"Forgive  me,  but  amateurs  are  always  ready  to  take  risks." 

(At  this  moment  I  became  aware  that  Starr  had  slipped 
away.) 

"Isn't  it  rather  late,"  she  flashed  at  me,  "to  ask  my  for 
giveness  for  —  anything  ?" 

"It  was  a  mere  civility,"  I  answered  with  equal  insolence. 
"I've  done  nothing  for  which  I've  felt  the  need  of  your  forgive 
ness,  Miss  Van  Buren;  but  if  you  think  I  have,  pray  tell  me 
once  for  all  what  it  was,  that  I  may  defend  myself. " 

"You  don't  feel,"  she  echoed,  "that  you've  done  anything 
for  which  you  need  my  forgiveness  ?  Oh,  then  you're  more 
hardened  than  I  thought.  I  hoped  that  by  this  time  you  were 
repenting. " 

"Repenting  of  what  ?" 

"Of  everything.  Of  —  putting  yourself  in  your  present  posi 
tion,  among  other  things. " 

"You  mean  in  the  position  of  your  skipper  ?  I  may  say, 
that  if  I  haven't  repented,  it  isn't  your  fault.  But,  really,  I've 
been  so  busy  trying  to  make  myself  useful  to  the  party  in  more 
ways  than  one,  that  I've  had  no  time  for  repentance. " 

"Oh,  you  have  made  yourself  useful,"  she  had  the  grace  to 
admit.  "If  —  it  hadn't  been  for  the  beginning,  I  —  I  should 
have  been  grateful.  You  know  things  which  none  of  the  rest  of 
us  know.  You've  shown  us  sights  which  without  you  we  should 
never  have  seen  or  heard  of.  But  as  it  is,  how  can  I,  why 


RUDOLPH  BREDERODE'S  POINT  OF  VIEW    187 

should  I,  be  grateful  ?  It's  only  for  the  sake  of  the  others,  and 
their  pleasure,  that  I " 

"So  you  said  before,"  I  broke  in.  "But  now  I  refuse  to 
accept  toleration  from  you  —  we  won't  say  consideration,  for 
that's  too  warm  a  word  —  for  the  sake  of  others.  The  boat  is 
yours.  I  am  your  skipper.  If,  after  serving  you  as  well  as  I 
could  for  a  week,  you  wish  me  to  go,  I  will  go. " 

She  stood  and  stared  at  me  from  under  lashes  meant  only 
for  sweet  looks. 

"You  will  go?" 

"Certainly.  This  moment.  I  only  wait  your  word."  I  heard 
myself  saying  it;  and  in  a  way  I  was  sincere,  though  I  was 
the  same  man  who,  only  a  few  minutes  since,  had  vowed 
to  do  anything  rather  than  let  the  trip  end.  Of  course  I  would 
have  to  go  now,  if  she  told  me  to  go.  But  I  knew  that  I  should 
not  go.  As  skipper,  I  was  her  servant,  if  she  chose  to  give  me 
the  name;  but  as  a  man  I  felt  myself  her  master. 

"I  —  I  —  "  she  faltered,  and  I  saw  her  throat  flutter.  "You're 
putting  me  in  a  horrid  position.  We  —  I  thought  we'd  settled 
this  matter,  things  being  as  they  are. " 

"Not  at  all, "  said  I.  "Nothing  was  settled . " 

"You're  Mr.  Starr's  friend,  and  I  can't  send  you  away. " 

"You  can,  easily,"  I  replied.  "And  since  that  appears  to 
be  your  only  reason  for  not  doing  so,  I'll  not  wait  for  your 
orders  to  go.  Good-by,  Miss  Van  Buren,  I'll  do  my  best  to 
get  you  another  skipper,  a  professional  this  time. " 

I  moved  a  step  away,  and  my  blood  was  beating  fast. 
Everything  depended  on  the  next  instant. 

"Stop !  Please  stop,"  she  said. 

I  stopped,  and  looked  at  her  coldly. 

For  a  moment  we  stood  regarding  each  other  in  silence, 
for  it  seemed  that,  having  detained  me,  she  could  think  of 
nothing  more  to  say.  But  suddenly  she  broke  out,  with  a 
fierce  little  stamp  of  the  foot. 


188  THE   CHAPERON 

aOhl  Sometimes  I  can  understand  why  it  was  that  Philip 
liked  to  torture  the  Dutch." 

It  was  all  I  could  do  not  to  burst  out  laughing.  But  it  would 
have  spoiled  everything  for  me  if  I  had  laughed. 

"You  have  tortured  the  Dutch,"  said  I.  "But  now  it's 
finished.  The  Dutch  have  tired  of  the  torture. " 

"Oh,  you're  tired  ?  Then  you  had  better  go,  I  suppose. 
Why  are  you  waiting  ?" 

"You  stopped  me  for  something.  What  was  it  ?" 

"I — hardly  know.  It  was  only — I  was  going  to  propose " 

"You  were  going  to  propose  ?  " 

"That  —  you  stayed  a  little  longer.  You  were  to  take  us  — 
them,  I  mean  —  on  an  excursion  to-day  in  your  motor-car. 
They're  getting  ready  now.  They'll  be  —  so  disappointed. " 

"I'll  lend  you  —  them  —  my  car  and  my  chauffeur. " 

"No,  it  would  be  horrid  without  y  —  It  would  be  too  un 
gracious.  I  —  they  —  couldn't  accept." 

//T*  M 

I  m  sorry. 

"Don't  you  think  maybe  you'd  better  stay  a  little  longer  ?" 

"No,  Miss  Van  Buren,  I  go  now,  or  I  —  go  with  you  to  the 
end."  I  wonder  if  she  guessed  just  what  I  meant  by  those 
words  ?  "I'll  not  stop,  after  what's  passed  between  us,  for 
a  day  longer,  except  on  two  conditions. " 

"Conditions  ?  You  make  conditions  with  me  ?" 

"Certainly,  I  have  the  right. " 

"You  are  extraordinary." 

"I  am  a  Dutchman. " 

"Oh,  here  comes  Lady  MacNairne  —  in  her  motor-coat 
and  hood.  She  bought  them  yesterday  —  because  they're 
Tibe-color.  What  excuse  can  I  make?  Oh,  what  are  your 
conditions?" 

"First,  that  you  tell  me  you  want  me  to  stay." 

"I  do  —  on  their  account. " 

"That 'snot  the  way." 


RUDOLPH  BREDERODE'S  POINT  OF  VIEW    189 

"Well,  then,  I  ask  you  to  stay.  I  hope  your  next  condition 
isn't  as  hard." 

"You  must  be  the  judge.  It  is,  that  you'll  be  civil  to  me, 
and  friendly  —  at  least  in  appearance.  I  have  done,  and  will 
do  my  best  for  you  and  *  Lorelei.'  In  return,  I'll  have  no  more 
snubs." 

"But  if  they've  been  deserved?  No!  I  won't  be  brow 
beaten." 

"Nor  will  I.  Good-by,  again,  Miss  Van  Buren." 

"Here  comes  Phil  now,  in  her  motoring  things.  Oh  dear! 
Have  it  as  you  like.  I  will  —  be  nice  to  you. " 

She  smiled  in  spite  of  herself,  or  else  to  encourage  me  with 
a  sample  of  future  treatment;  and  giving  way  to  impulse  at 
last,  I  held  out  my  hand. 

"Shake  hands  on  the  bargain,  then,  and  it's  signed  and 
sealed,"  I  said. 

She  laid  her  fingers  delicately  in  mine,  and  dared  not  look 
resentful  when  I  gently  pressed  them. 

For  all  I  cared,  she  might  see  the  Paris  Herald  now.  For 
ail  I  cared,  the  sky  might  fall. 


XVII 

NEVER  was  man  in  better  mood  for  the  rush  and 
thrill  of  the  motor  than  I,  after  the  conquering  of 
Miss  Van  Buren.  It  was  but  a  shadow  victory,  a 
tempest  in  a  tea-pot,  yet  it  was  so  good  an  augury 
of  a  further  triumph  for  which  I  hoped  in  future,  that  the  joy 
of  it  went  fizzily  to  my  head,  and  I  could  have  shouted,  if  I 
had  been  alone  in  some  desert  place  with  nobody  by  to  know 
that  it  was  a  Dutchman  who  made  a  fool  of  himself. 

It  was  the  first  time  I  had  had  the  car  out  in  Amsterdam; 
for  the  city,  with  its  network  of  electric  trams  and  tremendous 
traffic,  is  far  from  idea  for  motoring,  and  I  wanted  to  keep  the 
nerves  of  my  people  cool  for  sight-seeing.  Therefore  the  auto 
mobile  had  been  eating  her  head  off  in  a  garage,  while  we 
pottered  about  in  cabs,  driven  by  preposterously  respectable- 
looking  old  gentlemen,  bearded  as  to  their  chins,  and  white  as 
to  the  seams  of  their  coats. 

To  take  "Lorelei""  to  all  the  places  I  meant  to  see  to-day 
would  have  occupied  half  a  week,  though  none  were  at  a  great 
distance  from  Amsterdam  but  the  waterways  there  do  not  in 
all  places  connect  conveniently  for  a  boat  of  "Lorelei's"  size, 
though  we  might  have  left  "Waterspin"  behind.  So  I  proposed 
the  car,  and  everybody  caught  at  the  idea. 

There  was  not  one  of  the  party  who  by  this  time  had  not 
studied  guide-books  enough  to  know  something  of  Muiden, 
Laren,  Baarn,  Hilversum,  and  Amersfoort;  but  they  might 
have  searched  Baedeker  and  all  his  rivals  from  end  to  end  with 
out  finding  even  the  name  of  Spaakenberg;  and  little  quaint, 
hidden  Spaakenberg  was  to  be  the  clou  of  our  expedition . 

190 


RUDOLPH  BREDERODE'S  POINT  OF  VIEW    191 

It  was  ten  o'clock  when  I  got  them  all  —  including  Tibe  — 
into  the  car;  indeed,  it  always  seems  to  be  exactly  ten  o'clock 
when  we  start  on  any  excursion,  even  when  it  has  been  decided 
over  night  that  we  should  set  off  promptly  at  nine.  But  Starr, 
who  pretends  to  knowledge  of  women's  ways,  says  we  are 
lucky  to  get  away  anywhere  before  eleven,  seeing  that  at  the 
last  moment  one  of  the  ladies  remembers  that  she  must  write 
and  post  an  important  letter,  which  will  take  only  five  minutes ; 
or  she  finds  she  has  forgotten  her  purse  in  a  drawer  at  the 
hotel,  and  must  go  back;  or  she  thinks  she  will  be  too  cool 
or  too  hot,  and  must  make  some  change  in  her  costume;  or  if 
nothing  of  this  sort  happens,  Tibe  is  lost  sight  of  for  a  second, 
and  disappears  in  pursuit  of  new  friendships,  canine  or  hu 
man.  He  has  then  not  only  to  be  retrieved,  which  is  usually  an 
affair  of  twenty  minutes,  but  has  to  be  caressed  for  an  extra 
five  by  his  mistress,  who  never  fails  to  abandon  hope  of  seeing 
him  again  the  moment  he  is  out  of  sight. 

To  test  the  quality  of  Miss  Van  Buren's  resolutions,  I  asked 
her  to  take  the  seat  beside  the  driver,  expecting  some  excuse; 
but  she  came  like  a  lamb ;  and  the  taste  of  conquest  was  sweet 
in  my  mouth. 

In  Haarlem  all  had  proved  such  good  motorists  that,  de 
spite  the  ferocity  of  Amsterdam  trams,  I  was  scarcely  prepared 
for  the  emotions  which  began  to  seethe  in  the  tonneau  the 
moment  the  car  was  started  and  the  chauffeur  had  sprung  to 
his  place  at  my  feet.  According  to  my  idea,  there's  no  courage 
in  reckless  driving,  but  selfishness  and  other  less  agreeable 
qualities;  still,  we  did  not  exactly  dawdle  as  we  left  the  Amstel, 
to  swing  out  into  the  tide  of  city  life. 

"Heavens,  he's  going  to  kill  us!"  I  heard  the  Chaperon 
groan.  "Ronald,  tell  him  to  stop/' 

Miss  Rivers  was  also  giving  vent  to  despairing  murmurs. 
Tibe  was  "wuffing"  full-noted  threats  at  each  tram  which 
loomed  toward  us,  and  Starr  was  attempting  to  advise  me  over 


192  THE    CHAPERON 

my  shoulder  that  the  ladies  would  wish  to  be  driven  less  furi 
ously. 

To  my  joy,  Nell  looked  back  and  laughed.  "Why,  we're 
not  going  more  than  seven  miles  an  hour,"  said  she. 

"Then,  for  goodness'  sake,  let's  go  one,"  implored  her 
chaperon.  "I  never  dreamed  of  anything  so  awful." 

I  slackened  pace.  "Are  you  an  old  motorist?"  I  inquired 
of  my  companion,  as  if  I  were  used  to  asking  her  friendly, 
commonplace  questions. 

"I  never  was  in  a  car  until  the  other  day  with  my  cousin," 
said  she,  in  the  same  carefully  unconscious  tone.  "And  I'm 
afraid  in  my  feet  and  hands  now;  but  the  rest  of  me  is  enjoy 
ing  it  awfully.  Yes,  that's  the  word,  I  think,  for  it  is  rather 
awful.  I  shouldn't  have  dreamed  that  trams  could  look  so 
big,  or  bridges  so  narrow,  except  in  nightmares.  And  —  and 
you  can't  make  your  horn  heard  much,  can  you,  over  the  noise 
on  the  stones  ?  Oh,  there  was  a  close  shave  with  that  wagon, 
wasn't  it  ?  I  felt  bristling  like  a  fretful  porcupine  —  oh,  but  a 
stark,  staring  mad,  blithering,  driveling  porcupine !" 

It  was  delicious  to  have  her  talk  to  me,  and  to  feel  that 
because  she  trusted  my  skill,  she  was  not  really  afraid,  but 
only  excited  enough  to  forget  her  stiffness. 

"Perhaps  Amsterdam  wouldn't  be  a  pleasant  place  to 
learn  'chauffeuring '  in,"  I  said;  "but  it's  all  right  when  you 
have  learned." 

"It's  a  good  thing,"  she  went  on,  "that  motoring  wasn't 
invented  by  some  grand  seignor-in  the  Middle  Ages,  when  the 
rich  thought  no  more  of  the  poor  than  we  do  of  flies,  or  they'd 
have  run  over  every  one  who  didn't  get  out  of  their  way  on  the 
instant.  They'd  have  had  a  sort  of  cow-catcher  fitted  on  to 
their  cars,  to  keep  themselves  from  coming  to  harm,  and  they'd 
have  dashed  people  aside,  anyhow  In  these  days,  no  matter 
how  hard  your  heart  may  be,  you  have  to  sacrifice  your  in 
clinations  more  of  less  to  decency.  I  dare  say  the  Car  of  Jug- 


RUDOLPH  BREDERODE'S  POINT  OF  VIEW    193 

gernaut  was  a  motor.  Oh,  what  a  huge  town!  Shall  we  ever 
get  out  of  Pandemonium  into  the  country  ?" 

We  did  get  out  at  last,  and  suddenly,  for  in  Hollow  Land 
the  line  between  town  and  country  is  abrupt,  with  no  fading  of 
city  into  suburb  and  meadow.  One  moment  we  were  in  the 
bustle  of  Amsterdam;  the  next,  we  were  running  along  a 
klinker  road,  straight  as  a  ruler,  beside  a  quiet  canal.  Such 
horses  as  we  met,  being  accustomed  to  the  traffic  of  Amster 
dam,  had  no  fear  of  the  motor,  which  was  well ;  for  on  so  nar 
row  a  road,  with  the  canal  on  one  side,  and  a  deep  drop  into 
meadows  on  the  other,  an  adventure  would  be  disagreeable. 
But  it  was  not  all  straight  sailing  ahead.  Outside  the  traffic, 
I  put  on  speed  to  make  up  for  lost  time,  and  the  car  quickly 
ate  up  the  distance  between  Amsterdam  and  Muiden. 

My  passengers  broke  into  admiration  of  the  medieval 
fortress  with  its  paraphernalia  of  moats,  bastions,  and  draw 
bridges,  which  give  an  air  of  historic  romance  to  the  country 
round ;  but  their  emotion  would  have  been  of  a  different  kind 
had  they  guessed  the  risk  we  must  take  in  running  through  the 
winding  fortifications.  It  was  not  so  great  a  risk  that  it  was 
foolish  to  take  it,  and  thirty  or  forty  cars  must  do  the  same 
thing  every  day;  but  the  fact  was,  that  we  had  to  run  through 
these  tunnels  on  tram-lines,  with  no  room  to  turn  out  in  case 
of  meeting  a  steam  monster  from  Hilversum.  I  had  chosen  my 
time,  knowing  the  hours  for  trams;  still,  had  there  been  a  de 
lay,  there  was  a  chance  of  a  crash,  for  our  horn  could  not  be 
heard  by  the  tram  driver,  nor  could  he  see  us  in  time  to  put 
on  his  brakes  and  prevent  a  collision. 

With  the  girl  I  love  beside  me,  and  three  other  passengers, 
not  to  mention  the  chauffeur,  it  was  with  a  tenseness  of  the 
nerves  that  I  drove  through  the  labyrinth,  and  I  was  glad  to 
clear  Muiden.  Next  came  Naarden  —  that  tragic  Naarden 
whose  capture  and  sack  by  the  Spaniards  encouraged  Alva  to 
attack  Haarlem;  and  then,  without  one  of  the  party  having 


194  THE   CHAPERON 

dreamed  of  danger,  we  swung  out  on  the  road  lo  Laren,  a 
road  set  in  pineland  and  heather,  which  would  have  reminded 
the  real  Lady  MacNairne  of  her  Scottish  home.  There  was 
actually  something  like  a  hill  here  and  there,  which  the  stran 
gers  were  astonished  to  find  in  Holland,  and  would  hardly  be 
lieve  when  I  said  that,  on  reaching  Gelderland,  I  would  be 
able  to  show  them  a  Dutch  mountain  two  hundred  feet  high, 
among  a  colony  of  smaller  eminences  to  which  half  the  Nether 
lands  rush  in  summer. 

Meanwhile  they  were  satisfied  with  what  they  saw;  and  it 
is  a  pretty  enough  road,  this  way  between  Amsterdam  and 
Laren.  At  first  we  had  had  the  canal,  with  its  sleepy  barges, 
peopled  with  large  families,  and  towed  by  children  harnessed 
in  tandem  at  the  end  of  long  ropes;  its  little  shady,  red-and- 
green  wayside  houses,  with  "Melk  Salon"  printed  attractively 
over  their  doors.  We  had  had  avenues  of  trees,  knotted  here 
and  there  into  groves;  we  had  passed  pretty  farmhouses  with 
bright  milk-cans  and  pans  hanging  on  the  red  walls,  like 
placks  in  a  drawing-room ;  we  had  seen  gardens  flooded  with 
roses,  and  long  stretches  of  water  carpeted  with  lilies  white  and 
yellow;  then  we  had  come  to  pine  forests  and  heather,  and 
always  we  had  had  the  good  klinker  which,  though  not  as 
velvety  for  motoring  as  asphalt,  is  free  from  dust  even  in  dry 
weather.  We  had  run  almost  continuously  on  our  fourth  speed ; 
and  even  in  Laren  I  came  down  to  the  second  only  long 
enough  to  let  them  all  see  the  beauty  of  the  Mauve  country. 

Starr  knows  Anton  Mauve's  pictures,  and  his  history;  but 
the  ladies  had  seen  only  a  few  delicious  landscapes  in  the  Ryks 
Museum.  Still,  they  liked  to  hear  that  at  Laren  Corot's  great 
disciple  had  found  inspiration.  Nowhere  in  the  Netherlands 
are  there  such  beautiful  barns,  each  one  of  which  is  a  back 
ground  for  a  Nativity  picture;  and  it  was  Laren  peasants, 
Laren  cows,  and  the  sunlit  and  cloud-shadowed  meadows  of 
Laren  which  kept  Mauve's  brush  busy  for  years. 


RUDOLPH  BREDERODE'S  POINT  OF  VIEW    195 

After  the  charm  of  Haarlem's  suburbs,  Hilversum,  where 
merchants  of  Amsterdam  play  at  being  in  the  country,  was 
disappointing;  but  having  lunched  in  open  air,  and  spun  on 
toward  Amersfoort,  we  ran  into  a  district  which  holds  some 
delightful  houses,  set  among  plane  trees,  varied  with  flowering 
acacias  and  plantations  of  oak.  Everywhere  our  eyes  followed 
long  avenues  cut  in  the  forest,  avenues  stretching  out  like  the 
rays  of  a  star,  and  full  of  a  tremulous  green  light,  shot  with 
gold. 

In  the  midst  of  this  forest  we  came  upon  Soestdyk,  where 
the  Queen-Mother  lives,  that  pleasant  palace  with  its  romance 
of  a  mysterious,  secret  room;  then  by-and-by  we  ran  into 
Amersfoort,  ringed  by  its  park,  and  Nell  was  so  entranced 
with  the  Gothic  church  tower,  that  she  rejoiced  to  hear  it  was 
the  finest  in  the  northern  Netherlands. 

I  had  chosen  market-day  in  Amersfoort  for  our  drive,  and 
as  we  sailed  into  the  spacious  square  of  the  town,  my  passen 
gers  saw  in  one  moment  more  Dutch  costumes  than  in  all  their 
previous  days  in  Hollow  Land. 

It  was  too  late  for  the  best  of  the  picture;  still,  the  market 
place  glittered  with  gold  and  silver  helmets,  and  delicate 
spiral  head-ornaments.  Ear-rings  flashed  in  the  sun,  and  mas 
sive  gold  brooches  and  buckles.  There  was  a  moving  rainbow 
of  color  and  a  clatter  of  sabots,  as  the  market  women  packed 
up  their  wares ;  but  there  was  no  time  to  linger,  if  we  were  to 
reach  Spaakenberg  before  the  shadows  grew  long.  We  sped 
on,  until  the  next  toll-gate  (we  had  come  to  so  many  that  Nell 
said  our  progress  was  made  by  tolling,  rather  than  tooling 
along  the  roads)  where  a  nice  apple-cheeked  old  lady  shook 
her  white  cap  at  the  motor,  while  accepting  my  pennies.  It 
was  her  opinion,  though  she  was  not  sure,  that  the  road  —  oh, 
a  very  bad  road !  —  to  Spaakenberg,  was  now  forbidden  to 
automobiles. 

To  tell  the  truth,  I  had  never  motored  to  Spaakenberg,  but 


196  THE   CHAPERON 

I  had  bicycled,  and  thought  there  ought  to  be  room  on  the 
narrow  road  for  two  vehicles,  even  if  one  were  a  motor  and 
the  other  a  hay-cart. 

I  was  not  surprised  that  the  old  lady  had  no  certainty  with 
which  to  back  up  her  opinion.  It  was  more  surprising  that 
she  should  know  of  the  existence  of  Spaakenberg,  of  which 
many  Dutch  bicyclists  who  pride  themselves  on  their  knowl 
edge,  have  never  heard. 

Naturally  we  determined  to  persevere,  more  than  ever 
eager  for  a  sight  of  the  strange  fishing-village,  and  a  glimpse 
of  the  Zuider  Zee. 

"But  what  shall  we  do  if  we  find  the  road  forbidden,  and 
we're  too  far  off  to  walk  ?"  Nell  asked.  "It  would  be  dreadful 
to  turn  back." 

"We  shan't  turn  back,"  said  I.  "We'll  hire  a  wagon  and 
go  on,  or  —  we'll  pass  the  sign  which  forbids  us  to  proceed, 
too  quickly  to  see  it.  Such  things  happen;  and  the  road's  too 
narrow  to  turn  or  even  to  reverse." 

"I  am  glad  you're  a  Dutchman,"  said  she. 

"Why  ?  Because  I  know  the  ropes  ?" 

"No.  Because  you'd  die  rather  than  give  up  anything 
you've  set  out  to  do." 

It  was  now  as  if  the  apple-cheeked  old  prophetess  had  be 
witched  the  country.  The  monarchs  of  the  forest  fled  away 
and  left  us  in  the  open,  with  a  narrow  strip  of  road  between  a 
canal  loaded  with  water-lilies  and  low-lying  meadows  of  yel 
low  grain. 

The  landscape  was  charming,  and  the  air  balmy  with  sum 
mer;  but  with  the  first  horse  we  met  all  peace  was  over. 

Here  were  no  longer  the  blase  beasts  of  a  sophisticated 
world.  Animals  of  this  region  had  never  seen  a  town  larger 
than  Amersfoort.  A  motor-car  was  to  them  as  horrifying  an 
object  as  a  lion  escaping  from  his  cage  at  a  circus. 

Horses  reared,  hay-carts  swayed,  peasants  shrieked  maledic- 


A  couple  of  great  yellow  dogs,  drawing  a  cart,  swore  canine 
oaths  against  the  car 


RUDOLPH  BREDERODE'S  POINT  OF  VIEW    197 

tions  or  shook  fists;  but  always,  crawling  at  snail's  pace,  we 
managed  to  scrape  past  without  accident.  Sometimes  we 
frightened  cows;  and  a  couple  of  great  yellow  dogs,  drawing 
a  cart  which  contained  two  peasant  girls  in  costume,  swore 
canine  oaths  against  the  car. 

"Oh,  mercy,  we've  just  passed  a  sign  in  Dutch,  '  Motors 
forbidden'!  "cried  Nell. 

"Well,  we've  passed  it,"  said  I.  "Perhaps  it  meant  that 
side  road ;  it's  narrower  than  ours.  Let's  think  it  did. " 

So  we  gave  it  the  benefit  of  the  doubt  and  fled  on,  until  in 
less  than  an  hour  we  flashed  into  a  fishing-village.  They  all 
cried,  "Spaakenberg  and  the  Zuider  Zee!"  But  as  it  was  not 
Spaakenberg,  I  gave  them  only  a  flashing  glimpse  of  masts  and 
dark  blue  water. 

Half  a  mile's  drive  along  a  canal,  and  we  came  to  our 
destination.  And  of  Spaakenberg  the  first  thing  we  saw  was  a 
forest  of  masts,  with  nets  like  sails,  brown,  yet  transparent  as 
spider-webs.  Fifty  sturdy  fishing-boats  were  grouped  together 
in  a  basin  of  quiet  water  within  sight  of  the  Zuider  Zee,  which 
calls  to  men  on  every  clear  night,  "the  fish  are  waiting." 

I  stopped;  and  as  we  counted  the  boats,  the  whole  able- 
bodied  population  of  Spaakenberg  issued  from  small,  peak- 
roofed  houses  to  see  what  monster  made  so  odd  a  noise.  By 
twenties  and  by  thirties  they  came,  wonderful  figures,  and  the 
air  rang  with  the  music  of  sabots  on  klinker. 

There  were  young  women  carrying  tiny  round  babies;  there 
were  old  women  who  had  all  they  could  do  to  carry  them 
selves;  there  were  little  girls  gravely  knitting  their  brothers0 
stockings;  and  toddling  creatures  so  infinitesimal  that  one 
could  not  guess  whether  they  would  grow  up  male  or  female. 
There  were  men,  too,  but  not  many  young  ones;  and  there 
were  plenty  of  chubby-faced  boys. 

As  for  the  women  and  girls,  they  wore  Heaven  knows  how 
many  petticoats  —  seven  or  eight  at  the  minimum  —  and 


198  THE   CHAPERON 

their  figures  went  out  at  the  places  where  they  should  have 
gone  in,  and  went  in  at  the  places  where  they  should  have 
gone  out.  They  were  like  the  old-fashioned  ladies  with  pan 
niers  on  each  side;  and  those  who  could  not  afford  enough 
petticoats  had  padded  out  their  own  and  their  children's  hips 
to  supply  the  right  effect. 

Some  had  black  hoods  with  furry  rolls  round  their  rose-and- 
snow  faces;  some  heightened  the  brilliancy  of  their  complexion 
by  close-fitting  caps  of  white  lace,  according  to  their  religion 
—  whether  they  were  of  the  Catholic  or  Protestant  faith;  and 
the  babies,  in  black  hoods,  neck-handkerchiefs,  and  balloon- 
like  black  skirts  reaching  to  their  feet,  were  the  quaintest  fig 
ures  of  all.  The  men  and  boys,  in  their  indigo  blouses,  were  not 
living  pictures  like  their  female  relatives,  save  when,  with 
bright  blue  yokes  over  their  shoulders  (from  which  swung 
green,  scarlet-lined  pails,  foaming  with  yellow  cream),  they 
returned  from  milking  blue-coated,  black  and  white  cows. 

Unspoiled  by  the  influx  of  strangers,  the  simple  people 
thronged  round  us,  not  for  what  they  might  get,  but  for  what 
they  could  see.  We  were  quainter  to  them  than  they  to  us,  and 
Tibe  was  as  rare  as  a  dragon.  His  mistress  was  of  opinion 
that  they  believed  the  noise  of  the  motor  (now  stilled)  to  have 
issued  from  his  black  velvet  muzzle;  and  when  we  all,  includ 
ing  the  tragic-faced,  happy-hearted  bulldog,  got  out  to  wander 
past  the  rows  of  tiny  houses  in  the  village,  they  swarmed  round 
him,  buzzed  round  him,  whirled  round  him,  to  his  confusion. 

Escape  seemed  hopeless,  when  Nell  and  Phyllis  had  an 
inspiration.  They  rushed  in  at  the  door  of  a  miniature  shop, 
with  a  few  picture  postcards  and  sweets  in  glass  jars  displayed 
in  a  dark  window.  Three  minutes  later  they  fought  their  way 
out  through  the  crowd  of  strange  dolls  "come  alive,"  and, 
like  a  farmer  sowing  seed,  strewed  pink  and  white  lozenges 
over  the  heads  of  girls  and  boys. 

Instantly  the  "clang  of  the  wooden  shoon"  ceased.  Down 


RUDOLPH  BREDERODE'S  POINT  OF  VIEW    199 

squatted  the  children  with  the  suddenness  of  collapsed  um 
brellas.  There  was  a  scramble,  and  we  seized  the  opportunity 
for  flight.  We  had  seen  the  Zuider  Zee;  we  had  seen  the  cows 
in  blue  coats;  we  had  seen  Spaakenberg;  and  Spaakenberg 
had  seen  us. 


XVIII 

RETURNING  by  way  of  wooded  Baarn,  we  spun 
back  to  Amsterdam  when  violet  shadows  lengthened 
over  golden  meadows,  and  gauzy  mist-clouds  floated 
above  the  canal,  burnished  to  silver  by  the  sunset. 

It  was  too  late  to  do  anything  but  dine  and  plan  for  to 
morrow,  which  I  had  mapped  out  in  my  mind,  subject  to 
approval.  But  I  let  them  all  talk,  as  I  often  do,  without  saying 
anything  until  they  turn  to  me  with  a  question. 

"There's  an  island  which  people  say  is  wonderful,  and  you 
mustn't  miss  it,"  remarked  the  Chaperon.  "But  I've  forgotten 
the  name." 

"Why  is  it  wonderful  ?"  asked  Miss  Rivers. 

"I  can't  remember.  But  there  was  something  different 
about  it  from  what  you  can  see  anywhere  else." 

"Dear  me,  how  awkward.  How  are  you  to  find  it  ?"  sighed 
Phyllis. 

"Ask  Alb  to  rapidly  mention  all  islands  in  Holland,  and 
perhaps  it  will  come  back  to  you,"  suggested  the  Mariner. 
"Begin  with  A,  Alb." 

"Not  worth  while  wasting  the  letters  of  the  alphabet,"  said 
I.  "Lady  MacNairne  (the  name  invariably  sticks  in  my 
throat)  means  Marken." 

"That's  it!"  exclaimed  the  Chaperon.  "How  could  you 
guess  ?" 

"There's  only  one  island  that  people  talk  about  like  that," 
I  replied.  "It's  the  great  show  place;  and  it's  like  going  to 
the  theater.  The  curtain  rings  up  when  the  audience  arrives, 
and  rings  down  when  it  departs.  You'll  see  tc -morrow." 

200 


RUDOLPH  BREDERODE'S  POINT  OF  VIEW   201 

"To-morrow  ?" 

"My  idea  was  to  take  you  there  to-morrow,  unless  you 
prefer  another  place." 

I  looked  at  the  mistress  of  the  boat,  and  no  hardness  came 
into  her  eyes.  The  contrast  between  her  manner  yesterday 
and  her  manner  since  this  morning  was  so  marked  that,  in 
stead  of  being  wholly  pleased,  I  was  half  alarmed.  It  seemed 
too  good  to  be  true  that  her  feelings  should  have  changed,  and 
that  the  sun  should  continue  to  shine. 

"Why,  certainly,  let's  go  to  Marken,"  she  said.  "I  was 
thinking  of  Broek-in-Waterland,  as  I  read  it  was  near,  and  the 
sweetest  place  in  Holland;  however,  we  can  go  by-and-by, 
if- 

"But  my  plan  includes  Broek-in-Waterland,  gives  you  a 
glimpse  of  Monnikendam,  takes  you  to  Marken,  and  winds  up 
at  Volendam,  beloved  of  artists,"  said  I.  "I  don't  believe  we'll 
find  it  easy  to  tear  Starr  from  Volendam." 

So  it  was  settled,  and  every  one  agreed  to  be  ready  at  ten 
o'clock  next  morning.  But  ten  o'clock  came,  and  no  Nell,  no 
Phyllis,  no  Chaperon. 

My  car  was  at  the  door,  as  I  intended  to  save  time  by  motor 
ing  to  the  Club  harbor,  where  the  yacht  was  lying;  and  when 
Starr  and  I  had  waited  in  the  hall  for  some  minutes,  Aunt 
Fay  appeared. 

"Haven't  the  girls  come  in  yet  with  Tibe?"  she  asked. 
There  was  a  note  of  anxiety  in  her  voice,  though,  owing  to  the 
fact  that  the  blue  spectacles  are  very  large,  the  wings  of  gray 
hair  -droop  very  low,  a  perky  bow  of  white  gauzy  stuff  worn 
under  the  chin  comes  up  very  high,  and  the  face  is  very  small, 
it  is  difficult  to  tell  by  the  lady's  expression  what  she  may  be 
feeling;  indeed,  there  is  remarkably  little  room  for  an  expres 
sion  to  be  revealed;  which  adds  to  the  mystery  of  the  Chap 
eron's  personality. 

"Are  they  out  ?"  asked  Starr. 


202  THE   CHAPERON 

"Yes.  But  they  promised  to  be  back  at  a  quarter  to  ten, 
without  fail,  or  I  shouldn't  have  let  them  go.  Tibe's  had  no 
breakfast,  and  he  must  have  his  teeth  brushed  before  we  start. 
Oh  dear,  I'm  afraid  something's  happened." 

"For  goodness'  sake,  don't  be  excited.  You  get  such  an 
American  accent  when  you're  excited,"  whispered  the  Marin 
er,  fiercely.  "Be  brave.  Remember  you're  a  Scotswoman." 

"If  I  lose  Tibe,  I  shall  be  a  madwoman,"  she  retorted. 

"You  won't  lose  him.  Alb  and  I  care  at  least  as  much  for 
the  girls  as  you  do  for  your  dog,  and  we're  not  worrying 

"That's  different.  The  girls  don't  belong  to  you,"  almost 
wept  the  tiny  creature.  "You  haven't  fed  them,  and  brushed 
them,  and  washed  their  feet  every  day  of  their  lives  since  they 
were  a  few  months  old,  as  I  have  with  Tibe,  and  if  you're  not 
very  nice  to  me,  you  never  will." 

"We  never  dared  hope  for  quite  as  much  as  that,"  said 
Starr,  "but  we  are  being  nice  to  you.  What  do  you  want  us 
to  do  ?  They're  half  an  hour  behind  time.  Shall  we  give  an 
order  for  the  Town  Crier  ?  I  dare  say  there's  one  in  use  still, 
as  this  is  Holland." 

"If  you're  sarcastic,  Ronald,  I'll  leave  you  the  moment  I 
have  my  darling  Tibe  again,"  replied  the  Chaperon,  and  the 
threat  reduced  Ronald  to  crushed  silence. 

"What  took  them  out  so  early  in  the  morning  ?"  I  asked. 

"Oh,  Tibe  escaped  from  my  room  for  a  minute,  and  was 
eating  a  boot  which  he  found  at  somebody's  door  —  a  horrid, 
elastic-sided  boot:  I'm  sure  it  couldn't  have  been  good  for 
him  —  and  the  two  girls  brought  him  back.  They  were  going 
out  for  one  last  glimpse  of  that  quaint,  hidden  square  you  call 
'  the  village,'  which  they  longed  to  see  again,  and  they  asked 
if  they  should  take  Tibe,  so  I  said  yes,  as  he's  fond  of  driving. 

"Oh,  they  were  driving  ?"  said  I. 

"Yes.  They  could  easily  have  been  in  long  ago.  There 
must  have  been  an  accident.  Miss  Rivers  is  always  so  de- 


RUDOLPH  BREDERODE'S  POINT  OF  VIEW    203 

pressingly  prompt.  Such  a  strange  girl!  She  considers  it 
quite  a  sin  to  break  a  promise,  even  to  a  man,  and  she  seems 
actually  to  like  telling  the  truth." 

We  soothed  the  Chaperon's  fears  as  well  as  we  could;  but 
when  half-past  ten  came,  and  there  were  still  no  signs  of  the 
missing  ones,  we  both  began  to  be  troubled. 

"If  they  don't  appear  in  ten  minutes,  I'll  drive  slowly  in 
the  direction  by  which  they  should  return,"  I  said;  but  the 
words  had  hardly  left  my  lips  when  the  girls  walked  into  the 
hall,  with  Tibe.  Both  charming  faces  were  flushed,  and  it  was 
evident  that  something  exciting  had  happened.  But  whatever 
it  was,  nobody  was  the  worse  for  it.  Tibe  flew  to  his  mistress, 
knocking  down  a  child,  and  almost  upsetting  an  old  gentleman 
by  darting  unexpectedly  between  his  legs,  while  the  girls 
rushed  into  explanations. 

"We're  so  sorry  to  have  kept  you  waiting,  but  we've  had 
such  an  adventure!"  cried  Nell.  "We  were  driving  back  from 
the  'village,'  when  Tibe  gave  a  leap  and  jumped  out  of  the 
cab  before  we  could  hold  him." 

"We  were  terrified,"  broke  in  Phyllis. 

"And  he  disappeared  in  the  most  horribly  mysterious  way," 
finished  Nell. 

"We  thought  some  one  in  the  crowd  must  have  stolen  him, 
so  we  stopped  the  cab  — 

"And  began  tearing  about  looking  for  him,  asking  every 
human  being  in  every  known  language  except  Dutch,  if  they'd 
seen  a  dog,  or  a  chien,  or  a  hund 

"But  nobody  understood,  so  we  went  into  a  lot  of  shops, 
and  he  wasn't  in  any  of  them  — 

"And  we  were  in  despair.  We  shouldn't  have  dared  come 
back  without  him  — 

"I  should  think  not!"  cut  in  the  Chaperon. 

"And  we  were  on  the  way  to  the  nearest  police-station, 
with  a  dear  old  gentleman  who  could  speak  English,  and  a 


204  THE   CHAPERON 

whole  procession  of  extraneous  creatures  who  couldn't,  when 

we  saw  Tibe,  calmly  driving  in  a  carriage  with  — 

"A  strange  man,  and 

"He  never  so  much  as  looked  at  us,  but  we  were  sure  we 
couldn't  be  mistaken,  at  least  Nell  was :  so  we  deserted  our  old 
gentleman,  and  began  running  after  Tibe's  carriage,  shrieking 
for  it  to  stop." 

"Naturally,  every  one  thought  we  were  mad;  but  we  didn't 
care,  and  at  last  the  man  in  the  carriage  realized  we  were  after 
him.  If  he  hadn't  stopped,  we  should  have  known  that  he'd 
deliberately  stolen  Tibe;  but  he  did  stop,  and  we  said,  both 
together,  it  was  our  dog." 

"The  man  took  off  his  hat,  and  answered  in  English,  such 
a  nice  man,  and  quite  good-looking,  with  a  big  mustache,  and 
qtiick-tempered  blue  eyes.  He  said  that  the  first  thing  he 
knew,  Tibe  had  jumped  into  his  cab,  and  he  had  no  idea  where 
he  came  from,  as  he'd  been  reading  in  a  guide-book;  but  the 
strangest  thing  was,  he  left  certain  Tibe  had  belonged  to  him 
when  a  puppy;  only  his  dog  wasn't  named  Tibe,  but  John 
Bull  —  Bully  for  short,  and  he  sold  him  to  an  American,  be 
cause  it  turned  out  his  wife  didn't  like  bulldogs  in  the  house, 
she  thought  them  too  ugly." 

"What  a  cat  /"  interpolated  the  Chaperon. 

"Could  it  be  possible  that  Tibe  ever  was  his  ?"  asked  Nell. 
"He  sold  his  dog  just  a  year  ago,  when  he  was  six  months 
old- 

"I  bought  Tibe  ten  months  ago,  poor  lamb,  for  a  song, 
because  he  was  ill  —  he'd  been  seasick  on  a  long  voyage,  so  I 
nursed  him  up,  and  see  what  he  is  now,"  said  Tibe's  mistress. 
"It  may  be  he'd  belonged  to  this  man,  for  it's  always  the 
strangest  things  that  are  true.  Tibe  has  a  wonderful  memory 
for  faces;  but  I'm  sure  if  I'd  been  with  him,  he  wouldn't  have 
run  away  from  me  for  twenty  old  masters." 

"The  second  queerest  thing  in  the  adventure  is,  that  this 


RUDOLPH  BREDERODE'S  POINT  OF  VIEW    205 

'old  master'  must  be  some  relation  of  yours,  Lady  Mao 
Nairne,"  said  Nell.  "He gave  us  his  card.  See,  here  it  is."  She 
handed  it  to  the  Chaperon,  who  gazed  at  it  through  her  blue 
spectacles  for  a  moment  without  speaking;  then  passed  it 
to  Starr.  "Merely  —  a  relation  by  marriage,"  said  she.  "Quite 
a  distant  relation.  I  never  saw  this  gentleman  myself;  but  I 
believe  you've  met  him,  haven't  you,  dear  Ronny  ?" 

There  is  plenty  of  room  on  the  Mariner's  face  for  expres 
sion.  He  grew  red,  and  his  eyebrows  were  eloquent  as  he 
looked  at  the  card.  "Oh  —  er  —  yes,  I've  seen  him,  I  think," 
he  mumbled,  "when  I  was  in  Scotland  last.  Odd  he  happens 
to  be  here." 

"He  only  arrived  this  morning,  on  important  business," 
Nell  explained.  "If  it  weren't  for  that,  he  would  have  asked 
to  bring  us  back  to  our  hotel,  but  it  was  something  that  had 
to  be  attended  to  without  a  moment's  delay,  so  he  was  obliged 
to  leave  us  at  once.  He  was  on  the  way  to  the  Hotel  de 
1'Europe,  where  he  hoped  to  find  the  people  he'd  come  to 
seek." 

No  need  for  me  to  see  that  card.  I  knew  well  who  was  the 
hero  of  the  girls'  adventure,  and  would  have  guessed  without 
the  aid  of  Starr's  expression.  He  saw  that  I  guessed,  and 
turned  to  me  with  a  look  of  appeal. 

"Well,  at  all  events,  Tibe  is  safe,"  I  said,  "and  we  ought 
to  start,  if  we're  to  get  through  our  program  to-day.  Ladies, 
is  your  luggage  ready  ?  I'll  see  that  Tibe  has  a  nice  bone 
instead  of  breakfast.  He  can  eat  it  in  the  car,  going  to  the 
boat;  and  as  it's  dusty,  you  had  better  put  on  your  motor- 
veils  when  you  leave  the  hotel.  Starr  and  I  are  going  to  wear 
goggles." 

"Alb,"  said  Starr,  as  the  ladies  moved  away,  "you  may 
have  a  bad  heart,  but  you  have  a  good  head.  Disguise  and 
fight  are  our  only  hope.  If  Sir  Alec  should  recognize  me " 

("If  he  should  recognize  me,"  I  echoed  inwardly.) 


206  THE   CHAPERON 

"The  game  would  be  up." 

"Speed,  veils,  and  goggles  may  do  the  trick,"  said  I. 

"But  afterwards  ?  By  Jove,  what  we're  let  in  for !" 

"We  must  set  our  wits  to  work.  Change  'Lorelei's'  name 
and  disappear  into  space. " 

Five  minutes  later  we  were  off,  unrecognizable  by  our  best 
friends,  and  Tibe  well  hidden,  deeply  interested  in  his  bone  at 
the  bottom  of  the  tonneau.  But  hardly  were  we  away  when 
Miss  Rivers  cried  out 

"Oh,  look,  Nell;  there's  Sir  Alec  MacNairne.  Oughtn't 
we  to  stop  a  minute,  so  that  Lady  MacNairne 

"I'm  afraid  we  haven't  time,"  I  said  hastily,  and  put  on 
speed,  as  much  as  I  dared  in  traffic.  We  whizzed  by  a  cab, 
and  might  have  passed  the  gloomy-faced  man  who  sat  in  it 
with  his  traveling-bag  (hastily  packed,  I'll  warrant)  had  not 
the  two  girls  bowed. 

Their  faces  were  not  to  be  recognized  behind  the  small, 
triangular  talc  windows  of  the  silk  and  lace  motor-veils  they 
bought  in  Haarlem;  but  their  bow  attracted  Sir  Alec  Mac- 
Nairne's  attention,  and  those  "quick-tempered  blue  eyes"  of 
his  looked  the  whole  party  over  as  he  lifted  his  hat  from  his 
crisply  curling  auburn  hair.  He  probably  divined  that  the 
two  veiled  figures  must  be  the  girls  of  his  late  adventure ;  and 
as  he  was  now  acquainted  with  them  and  with  Tibe,  there 
would  be  one  less  chance  of  our  boat  slipping  away  from  under 
his  nose,  in  case  he  got  upon  our  track. 

I  realized  that  Sir  Alec  could  not  have  been  in  Scotland 
when  the  fatal  paragraph  appeared,  which  reached  our  eyes 
only  yesterday.  If  he  had  been,  he  could  not  have  arrived  in 
Amsterdam  to-day.  My  idea  now  is  that  he  must  have  come 
abroad  in  search  of  his  wife,  have  seen  the  Paris  Herald  at 
some  Continental  resort,  and  have  rushed  off  post-haste  to 
Holland,  expecting  to  find  her. 

Exactly  why  he  should  have  choosen  Amsterdam  to  begin 


RUDOLPH  BREDERODE'S  POINT  OF  VIEW   207 

his  quest,  is  not  so  clear;  but  he  must  have  had  reason  to 
hope  that  he  might  get  news  of  Lady  MacNairne  and  my 
(supposed)  motor-boat  here.  Doubtless  he  will  sooner  or 
later  come  upon  a  clue.  If  he  turns  up  at  the  Amstel  to 
prosecute  his  inquiries,  he  may  hear  of  Tibe,  and  of  the  two 
beautiful  young  ladies.  Then  he  will  put  two  and  two  together, 
and  will  be  after  us  —  as  Starr's  favorite  expression  is  — 
"before  we  can  say  knife." 

At  present  I  have  all  the  sensations  of  being  a  villain,  with 
none  of  the  advantages. 


XIX 

IT  seemed  homelike  to  be  on  board  "Lorelei"  again,  in 
my  place  at  the  wheel,  with  the  two  girls  and  the  Chap 
eron   in  their   deck-chairs   close  by.    Starr  had    been 
meaning  to  make  a  sketch  of  the  group  under  the 
awning,  but  the  dread  apparition  of  his  aunt's  husband  had 
twisted  his  nerves  like  wires  struck  by  lightning,  and  he  could 
do  nothing.  His  is  essentially  the  artistic  temperament,  and  he 
is  a  creature  of  moods,  impish  in  some,  poetic  in  others;  an 
extraordinary  fellow,  like  no  one  I  ever  saw,  yet  curiously 
fascinating,  and  I  find  myself  growing  oddly  fond  of  him,  in 
an  elder-brotherly,  protecting  sort  of  way. 

Even  I  have  my  moods  sometimes,  though  I  can  hide  them 
better  than  he  can ;  and  this  morning  I  was  in  the  wrong  key 
for  the  idyllic  peace  and  prim  prettiness  of  Broek- in- Water- 
land.  I  should  have  liked  better  to  be  out  on  a  meer  in  Fries- 
land,  in  a  stiff  breeze;  but  since  it  had  to  be  Broek,  I  made  the 
best  of  it. 

The  canal  leading  to  that  sleepy  little  village,  which  seems 
to  float  on  the  water  like  a  half-closed  lily,  is  one  of  the 
prettiest  in  the  Netherlands.  Almost  at  once,  after  parting 
from  Amsterdam,  we  turned  out  of  the  North  Sea  Canal;  and 
the  smoke  and  bustle  of  the  port  were  left  behind  like  a 
troubled  dream.  We  lifted  a  veil  of  sunbright  mist,  and  found 
ourselves  in  the  country  —  a  friendly  country  of  wide  spaces 
such  as  we  passed  through  in  motoring  between  Amersfoort 
and  Spaakenberg;  of  mossy  farmhouses  and  hayfields,  grazing 
cows,  and  swallows  skimming  low  over  little  side-canals 
carpeted  with  vegetation  like  a  netting  of  green  beads.  But 

208 


RUDOLPH  BREDERODE'S  POINT  OF  VIEW    209 

here  the  hay  was  not  protected  by  the  elevated  roofs  of  thatch 
we  had  seen  yesterday.  It  lay  in  loose  heaps  of  yellowing 
grass,  shining  in  the  sun  like  giant  birds'  nests  of  woven  gold ; 
and  all  the  low-lying  landscape  shimmered  pale  golden  and 
filmy  green,  too  sweet  and  fresh  for  the  green  of  any  other 
country  save  mine,  in  mid-July.  Here  and  there  a  peasant  in 
some  striking  costume,  or  a  horse  in  a  blue  coat,  made  a  spot 
of  color  in  the  pearl  and  primrose  light,  under  clouds  changeful 
as  opal;  and  each  separate,  dainty  picture  of  farmhouse,  or 
lock,  or  group  of  flags  and  reeds  had  its  double  in  the  water, 
lying  bright  and  clear  as  a  painting  under  glass,  until  our 
vandal  boat  came  to  shiver  picture  after  picture. 

As  we  moved,  our  progress  not  only  sent  an  advance  wave 
racing  along  the  dyke,  but  tossed  up  a  procession  of  tiny 
rainbow  fountains,  as  if  we  threw  handf uls  of  sapphires  and 
diamonds  into  the  water  in  passing. 

Sometimes  we  had  glimpses  of  mysterious  villages,  a  line 
of  pink-and-green  houses  stretching  along  the  canal  banks 
below  the  level  of  the  water,  shielded  by  rows  of  trees  trained, 
in  the  Dutch  way,  to  grow  flat  and  wide,  screening  the  windows 
as  an  open  fan  screens  the  sparkling  eyes  of  a  woman  who 
peeps  behind  its  sticks. 

These  half-hidden  dwelling-places  inspired  Starr  to  launch 
out  in  a  disquisition  upon  some  of  the  characteristics  he  has 
observed  among  my  people. 

"Funny  thing,"  said  Starr,  "the  Dutch  are  a  queer  mixture 
of  reserve  and  curiosity.  You  don't  see  a  town  or  village  where 
the  windows  aren't  covered  with  curtains,  and  protected  by 
squares  of  blue  netting.  But  though  the  beings  behind  those 
windows  are  so  anxious  to  live  in  private,  they're  consumed 
with  curiosity  about  what's  going  on  outside.  For  fear  of  miss 
ing  something,  they  stick  up  looking-glasses  on  the  walls  to 
tell  them  what  happens  in  the  street.  *  Seeing,  unseen,'  is  the 
motto  that  ought  to  be  written  over  the  house  doors. " 


210  THE   CHAPERON 

"The  Lady  of  Shalott  started  the  fashion,"  said  Nell. 

As  we  drew  nearer  to  Broek-in-Waterland,  the  landscape, 
already  fragrant  with  daintiness,  began  to  tidy  itself  anew,  out 
of  deference  to  Brock's  reputation.  The  smallest  and  rudest 
wooden  houses  on  the  canal  banks  had  frilled  their  windows 
with  stiff  white  curtains  and  tied  them  with  ribbon.  Railings 
had  painted  themselves  blue  or  green,  and  smartened  their 
tips  with  white.  Even  the  rakes,  hoes,  and  implements  of 
labor  had  got  themselves  up  in  red  and  yellow,  and  green 
buckets  had  wide-open  scarlet  mouths. 

As  we  walked  to  the  village,  after  mooring  "Lorelei"  at  the 
bridge,  the  girls  laughed  and  chatted  together,  but  involun 
tarily  they  hushed  their  voices  on  entering  the  green  shadow 
of  the  little  town  under  its  slow-marching  procession  of  great 
trees;  and  the  spell  of  somnolent  silence  seized  them. 

I  think  no  one  coming  into  Broek-in-Waterland  could 
escape  that  spell.  There  is  no  noise  there.  Even  the  trees 
whisper,  and  not  the  most  badly  brought  up  dog  would  dare 
to  bark  aloud. 

"Have  you  noticed,"  Nell  asked  me  softly,  "that  you  never 
hear  sounds  in  dreams  ?  No  matter  how  exciting  things  are, 
there's  never  any  noise;  everything  seems  to  be  acted  in 
pantomime.  Well,  it's  like  that  here.  We're  dreaming  Broek- 
in-Waterland  as  we  have  other  places." 

"And  dreaming  each  other,  too  ?" 

"I  shouldn't  wonder." 

"Then  I  hope  nothing  will  happen  to  wake  me  up." 

Just  then  we  arrived  at  a  dream  curiosity-shop  which  gave 
her  an  excuse  not  to  answer. 

On  the  edge  of  the  town  it  stands,  one  of  the  first  among 
the  little  old  houses,  which  look  as  if  they  had  been  made  to 
accommodate  well-to-do  dolls  of  a  century  or  two  ago.  Mod 
estly  retired  in  adoll's  garden,  with  an  imitation  stalactite  grotto, 
and  groups  of  miniature  statues  among  box-tree  animals,  its 


RUDOLPH  BREDERODE'S  POINT  OF  VIEW    211 

door  is  always  open  to  welcome  visitors  and  allure  them. 
Within,  vague  splashes  of  color  against  a  dim  background; 
blues  that  mean  old  Delft;  yellow  that  means  ancient  brass; 
and  all  gleaming  in  the  dusk  with  the  strange  values  that 
flowers  gain  in  twilight. 

I  knew  that  Nell  and  Phyllis  and  the  Chaperon  would  not 
pass  by,  and  they  didn't. 

There  was  a  man  inside,  but  he  did  not  ask  us  to  buy 
anything.  He  had  the  air  of  a  host,  pleased  to  show  his 
treasures,  and  the  Chaperon  feared  that  I  was  playing  some 
joke  when  I  encouraged  them  to  invade  the  quaint  and 
pretty  rooms. 

"I  don't  believe  it  is  a  shop,"  said  she.  "It's  just  an  eccentric 
little  house,  that  belongs  to  somebody  who's  away  —  a  dear 
old  maiden  lady,  perhaps,  a  collector  of  antiques,  for  her  own 
pleasure.  This  man's  her  caretaker." 

"She's  strayed  into  some  other  dream,  maybe,"  suggested 
Nell.  "She's  lost  her  way,  poor  old  dear,  and  can  never  find 
it  again,  to  come  back,  so  that's  why  the  things  are  for  sale  — 
if  they  really  are.  But  listen,  all  the  clocks  in  the  house  are 
talking  to  each  other  about  her.  They  expect  her  to  come, 
and  that's  why  they  keep  on  ticking,  through  the  years,  to 
make  the  time  seem  short  in  passing;  for  some  of  them  must 
have  had  their  hundredth  birthday,  long,  long  ago." 

"He's  a  faithful  caretaker  then,  to  keep  everything  in  such 
good  order,"  said  Phyllis.  "But  perhaps  he  believes  what  the 
clocks  are  saying  about  the  old  lady  coming  back.  He's  got 
the  sweetest  little  clean  curtains  at  the  windows,  and  this  too 
adorable  wall-bed  is  ready  for  her  to  hop  into,  and  dream  the 
right  dream  again." 

"He'd  be  mobbed  by  other  Broekites,  if  he  didn't  keep 
things  clean,"  I  answered.  "You  know,  Broek-in-Waterland 
is  supposed  to  be  the  cleanest  place  in  the  Netherlands,  which 
is  something  of  a  boast,  isn't  it  ?  The  saying  used  to  be  that, 


212  THE   CHAPERON 

if  a  leaf  dropped  off  a  tree,  or  a  wisp  of  hay  off  a  passing  cart, 
and  one  of  the  inhabitants  saw  it,  he  ran  out  of  his  house  and 
threw  the  dreadful  thing  into  the  canal." 

"Let's  scatter  a  few  bits  of  paper,"  said  Starr,  "and  see 
what  would  happen." 

"I'm  afraid  they're  not  as  observant  or  energetic  as  they 
used  to  be.  I  counted  three  straws  on  the  bricks,  coming  up." 

"What  wouldn't  I  give  to  have  lunch  in  this  house,  on  that 
charming  old  mahogany  table,  with  those  Delft  plates  and 
pewter  mugs,"  sighed  Miss  Rivers,  her  eyes  traveling  over  the 
old  furniture  which,  as  she  said,  seems  to  be  ready  and  waiting 
till  the  wrong  dream  shall  break. 

"I'm  going  to  take  you  to  lunch  somewhere  else,"  I  told 
her.  "But  you  can  buy  Delft  plates  and  pewter  mugs  here  for 
your  own  table,  if  you  like." 

Then  some  exchange  and  barter  did  take  place;  although 
Nell  said  it  seemed  cruel  to  buy  anything  and  separate  it  from 
its  old  friends.  One  ought  to  apologize  to  the  things  that  were 
left  for  tearing  their  companions  away. 

There  was  time  to  step  into  the  nearest  cheese  factory,  and 
to  go  on  and  see  the  old  church,  I  said,  if  they  didn't  mind 
lunching  late.  Of  course  they  did  not;  so  we  strolled  into 
the  show  place  of  Broek,  a  large  house  where  cows  live  in  neat 
bedrooms  carpeted  with  something  which  resembles  grated 
cheese.  The  Chaperon  suggested  that,  after  all,  it  was  nothing 
but  sawdust,  and  probably  she  was  right;  nevertheless  each 
little  cubicle  in  the  long  row,  with  its  curtained  window  and 
blue-white  wall,  looked  pretty  enough  for  a  fastidious  human 
being.  We  should  have  lingered  looking  at  the  cheeses  and 
sniffing  dairy  smells,  but  suddenly  a  tidal  wave  of  tourists 
from  an  excursion  steamer  swept  in,  swamped  us,  and  swal 
lowed  Tibe.  He  was  retrieved  after  a  search,  in  the  doorway 
of  the  curiosity-shop,  whither  he  had  wisely  returned  to  await 
his  friends,  and  we  then  went  on  past  the  meer  with  its  deserted 


RUDOLPH  BREDERODE'S  POINT  OF  VIEW    213 

bandstand,  to  one  of  the  few  lovable  churches  left  in  my 
country. 

It  is  whitewashed  and  bare,  but  somehow,  instead  of  mak 
ing  it  grim,  the  whiteness  has  given  it  a  religious  look.  The 
old  canopied  rosewood  pulpit  makes  you  feel  good,  though  not 
disagreeably  good,  and  the  brass-work  is  a  joy. 

"You've  seen  a  comic  opera  cheese  factory,"  said  I,  when 
we  had  left  the  church.  "Now,  I'll  show  you  the  real  thing, 
and  then  you  shall  have  lunch.  It  won't  be  conventional,  but 
I  think  you'll  like  it." 

"For  heaven's  sake  let's  drown  our  sorrows  in  cheese,  or 
something  else  supporting,  and  soon,  or  we  perish,"  said  the 
Mariner.  "Our  blood  will  then  be  upon  your  head,  and  as  it's 
blue,  and  you're  brown,  it  won't  be  at  all  becoming." 

At  this,  I  hurried  them  on,  and  presently  arrived  at  a  red 
brick  house  set  in  a  little  garden.  The  glass  of  the  white- 
curtained  windows,  and  the  varnished  woodwork  of  the  door 
at  which  I  knocked,  glittered  so  intolerably  that  they  hurt  the 
eyes,  and  made  one  envy  the  Chaperon  her  blue  glasses.  It 
was  a  relief  when  the  dazzling  door  flew  back  to  disclose  a  dim 
interior,  and  a  delightful  old  lady  in  a  lace-covered  gold  helmet, 
a  black  dress,  and  an  elaborate  apron. 

"Something  to  eat  ?"  she  echoed  my  demand.  "But, 
mynheer,  we  have  nothing  which  these  ladies  would  fancy. 
For  you  two  we  could  do  well  enough,  for  you  are  men,  and 
young.  What  does  it  matter  what  you  eat,  if  it  is  enough  ? 
These  ladies  will  laugh  at  our  fare." 

"They'll  laugh  with  pleasure,"  said  I.  "You  can  give  us 
eggs,  cheese,  bread  and  butter,  and  coffee,  can't  you,  and 
strawberries  and  cream,  perhaps  ?" 

"Yes,  mynheer,  and  some  fresh  cake." 

"Food  for  kings  and  queens,  as  you'll  serve  it,  y'vrouw,"  I 
assured  her;  and  we  flocked  into  the  hall. 

"Would  you  like  to  show  your  friends  how  we  make  our 


214  THE   CHAPERON 

cheese,  while  I  get  ready  the  food  ?"  asked  the  dame.  "If  you 
would,  I  will  send  for  my  son  to  guide  you,  though  you  know 
it  so  well  yourself,  mynheer,  you  need  no  explanations." 

Her  son  being  one  of  the  principal  objects  of  interest  at 
Wilhelminaberg,  however,  the  visit  would  not  be  complete 
without  his  society,  and  his  presence  was  commanded. 
Promptly  he  appeared,  bringing  with  him  a  smell  of  clover, 
and  milk,  and  new-made  cheese;  a  young  man  with  the  long, 
clever  nose,  narrow  blue  eyes,  and  length  of  upper  lip,  which 
you  can  see  on  any  canvas  of  an  old  Dutch  master. 

Wilhelminaberg  is  not  a  show  place;  few  tourists  find  their 
way  there,  and  it  is  never  flooded  by  a  wave  of  strangers ;  but 
if  some  of  the  stage  effects  are  lacking,  it  is  more  interesting 
for  that  reason. 

Starr  was  captivated  with  the  cows'  part  of  the  house, 
divided  from  their  human  companions  only  by  a  door.  He 
whipped  out  the  sketch-block  and  small  box  of  colors  which 
he  alwavs  carries,  and  began  jotting  down  impressions.  A 
dash  of  red  for  the  painted  brick  walls,  and  of  green  for  the 
mangers;  a  yellow  blur  for  the  mote-filled  rays  of  sunshine 
streaming  through  the  cows'  white-curtained  windows,  and  on 
the  flower-pots  adorning  their  window-sills;  a  trifle  more 
elaboration  for  the  carpet  of  sawdust  stamped  with  an  orna 
mental  pattern,  and  the  quaint  design  of  the  cupboard- beds 
for  the  stablemen  in  the  wall  opposite;  a  streak  here  and  there 
for  the  cords  which  loop  the  cows'  tails  to  nails  in  the  ceiling; 
gorgeous  spots  of  crimson  and  yellow  for  the  piled  cheeses. 
And  in  the  adjoining  room,  the  while  our  guide  described  in 
creditable  English  the  process  of  cheese-making,  Starr  sketch 
ed  him  standing  before  his  big  blue  press,  printing  out  n._ 
molds  with  an  odd,  yellow  reflection  from  the  cheese  cannon- 
balls  heaped  on  trays,  shining  up  into  the  shrewd  Dutch  face. 
Then  in  came  the  young  wife,  with  a  child  or  two  (pretty  dark 
creatures  like  their  mother,  with  the  innocent  brown  eyes  of 


RUDOLPH  BREDERODE'S  POINT  OF  VIEW    215 

calves),  followed  by  grandmama  in  her  gold  helmet,  to  say 
that  our  meal  was  ready ;  and  Starr  induced  them  to  stand  for 
him,  though  they  were  reluctant  and  self-conscious,  and  it  was 
by  sheer  fascination  that  he  prevailed. 

Never  had  any  of  the  party  except  myself  seen  a  room  like 
that  to  which  we  were  summoned  for  luncheon,  and  Starr 
could  not  eat  until  he  had  said  in  a  "few  words  of  paint"  what 
he  thought  of  its  paneled  walls,  its  shelves  littered  with  quaint 
and  foolish  china,  ostrich  eggs,  shells,  model  ships,  and 
hundred-year-old  toys;  its  ancient  brass-handled  chests  of 
drawers,  its  extraordinary  fireplace,  and  best  of  all,  its  white- 
curtained  cupboard-beds;  one  for  grandmama,  with  a  kind 
of  trapeze  arrangement  to  help  her  rise;  one  for  papa  and 
mama,  with  an  inner  shelf  like  a  nest  for  baby;  and  one  with 
a  fence  for  a  parcel  of  children.  The  artist's  cream-eggs  grew 
cold  while  he  worked,  but  it  was  worth  the  sacrifice,  for  the 
result  was  excellent,  and  Nell's  admiration  gave  me,  I'm 
ashamed  to  say,  a  qualm  of  jealousy.  I  have  no  such  accom 
plishments  with  which  to  win  her. 

We  sat  in  high  chairs  with  pictures  of  ships  painted  on 
backs  and  arms,  while  we  lunched  off  willow-patterned  plates, 
drank  delicious  coffee  out  of  cups  with  feet,  and  stirred  it  with 
antique  silver  spoons,  small  enough  for  children's  playthings. 
Afterwards  the  old  lady  with  the  helmet,  and  the  pretty 
daughter-in-law  were  persuaded  to  show  their  winter  ward 
robes,  which  consisted  mostly  of  petticoats.  There  were 
dozens,  some  knitted  of  heavy  wool,  some  quilted  in  elaborate 
patterns,  and  some  of  thick,  fleecy  cloth;  but  there  was  not 
one  weighing  less  than  three  pounds. 

"Do  ask  how  many  they  wear  at  a  time  ?"  the  Chaperon 
commanded,  no  doubt  with  a  thought  for  her  mysterious  note^- 
book,  about  which  I  often  wonder. 

"I  wear  eight,  summer  and  winter,"  replied  the  old  lady. 
"My  daughter-in-law  is  of  the  younger  generation,  and  does 


216  THE   CHAPERON 

not  put  on  more  than  six.  Little  Maria  is  allowed  only  four; 
it  is  better  for  children  not  to  carry  much  weight." 

The  girls  looked  petrified.  "What  martyrdom!"  exclaimed 
Nell.  "Even  the  Duke  of  Alva  couldn't  have  subjected  Dutch 
women  to  much  worse  torture  than  that.  Eight  of  these  knitted 
and  wadded  petticoats  in  summer !  It's  being  buried  alive  up 
to  the  waist.  In  the  name  of  civilization,  why  do  they  do  it  ?" 

I  passed  on  the  question  to  the  old  lady.  She  and  her 
daughter-in-law  received  it  gravely,  thought  it  over  for  a 
moment,  and  then  replied  — 

"But  we  must  do  it,  mynheer;  it  is  the  mode.  It  has  always 
been  the  mode." 

"Talk  of  slaves  of  fashion !"  muttered  Nell.  "If  you  want  to 
find  them,  don't  look  in  London  or  Paris  or  New  York,  but 
among  the  peasantry  of  Holland !" 

Not  one  of  the  three  could  recover  from  the  shock.  They 
seemed  stunned,  as  if  all  the  petticoats  at  once  had  fallen 
from  the  shelves  onto  their  heads  and  overwhelmed  them; 
and  even  when  we  had  said  good-by  to  Wilhelminaberg,  they 
talked  in  hushed  tones  of  what  it  must  feel  like  to  be  clothed 
in  eight  petticoats.  They  would  probably  have  gone  on  dis 
cussing  the  subject  in  all  its  phases,  until  we  regained  the  boat, 
if  something  had  not  happened.  It  was  just  after  we  passed 
the  bandstand  in  the  meer,  and  Starr  had  wondered  aloud  if 
the  inhabitants  of  Broek  ever  did  revel  so  giddily  and  publicly 
as  to  come  outside  their  gardens  to  hear  music,  when  there 
was  a  loud  splash,  followed  by  a  cry. 

The  splash  was  Tibe's,  the  cry  his  mistress's,  and  in  an 
instant  we  were  in  a  flutter,  for  the  dog  was  in  the  lake. 

Close  to  shore  the  water  is  coated  over  with  lily-pads, 
mingling  with  a  bright  green,  beady  vegetation;  and  Tibe 
mistook  it  for  a  meadow.  Standing  at  a  considerable  elevation 
on  the  road  above,  he  leaped  down  with  happy  confidence, 
only  to  be  deceived  as  many  wiser  than  he  have  been,  by 


Starr  induced  them  to  stand  for  him,  though  they  were 
reluctant  and  self-conscious 


RUDOLPH  BREDERODE'S  POINT  OF  VIEW    217 

appearances.  Bulldogs  have  virtues  all  their  own,  but  they 
are  not  spaniels;  and  there  was  despair  in  Tibe's  brown  eyes, 
as  he  threw  one  last  look  of  appeal  at  his  friends  before  dis 
appearing  under  the  green  carpet. 

Up  he  came  in  a  second,  covered  with  green  beads,  his 
black  mouth  choked  with  them.  Although  not  a  water-dog, 
instinct  kept  him  afloat,  and  he  began  to  swim  awkwardly, 
forging  farther  from  shore  instead  of  nearer.  In  a  moment  he 
had  tangled  his  legs  among  thick-growing,  ropey  stems  of 
water-lilies,  and  frightened  and  confused  at  rinding  himself  a 
prisoner,  went  down  again  under  the  green  surface. 

Meanwhile  his  mistress  was  half  mad  with  fright,  and 
would  not  listen  to  Starr's  assurance  that  the  dog  was  in  no 
danger. 

"He'll  bob  up  serenely  and  swim  close  to  us;  then  I'll  hook 
my  stick  in  his  collar  and  pull  him  out,"  the  Mariner  said 
cheerfully;  but  she  pushed  him  away,  sobbing. 

Now,  I  never  could  bear  to  see  a  woman  cry,  even  a  woman 
in  blue  spectacles;  so  I  did  not  wait  for  Tibe  to  come  up  and 
recover  presence  of  mind,  as  he  probably  would,  but  splashed 
down  myself  onto  the  green  carpet. 

The  water  hardly  reached  to  my  hips,  so  there  was  no 
bravery  in  the  feat,  and  I  felt  a  fool  as  I  went  wading  out  to 
the  spot  where,  by  this  time,  the  dog's  head  had  again  appeared 
among  the  water-lily  pads,  the  living  image  of  a  gargoyle. 
But  as  I  hauled  him  out,  with  a  word  of  encouragement,  the 
poor  chap's  gratitude  repaid  me.  Looking  like  a  vert-de-gris 
statue  of  a  dog,  he  licked  such  portions  of  me  as  he  could 
reach  with  a  green  tongue,  and  blessed  me  with  his  beautiful 
eyes. 

When  I  had  him  on  terra  firma  we  both  shook  ourselves, 
sending  an  emerald  spray  flying  in  all  directions;  and  then 
abortive  attempts  were  made  to  dry  Tibe  with  the  handker 
chiefs  of  the  united  party.  A  few  hurried  "Thank  you's"  were 


218  THE   CHAPERON 

all  I  got  from  the  Chaperon  at  the  jtime,  but  on  board  "Lorelei " 
she  had  something  more  to  say. 

Before  starting,  I  had  to  go  to  my  stateroom  on  "Waterspin" 
to  change  wet  clothes  for  dry  ones,  and  when  I  was  ready  to 
take  up  my  part  of  skipper,  no  one  was  on  deck  save  the 
Chaperon  and  Tibe  —  a  subdued  Tibe  buttoned  up  in  a 
child's  cape,  which  his  mistress  insisted  on  buying  in  Amster 
dam  for  him  to  wear  in  cold  weather. 

"My  poor  darling  spattered  the  girls  so  much,  that  they're 
below  taking  off  their  frocks,"  she  explained.  "Mr.  Starr's 
changing  too,  I  think,  but  I  waited  to  speak  to  you  alone, 
although  I  am  a  sight.  I  have  something  particular  to  say. " 

I  looked  a  question,  and  she  went  on.  "I've  always  liked 
you,  from  the  first.  I  saw  you  were  the  kind  of  man  who  could 
be  trusted  never  to  injure  a  woman,  no  matter  what  your 
opinion  of  her  might  be,  and  I'd  have  done  you  a  good  turn  if 
it  had  come  in  my  way;  but  now,  after  what  I  owe  you  this 
afternoon,  I'm  ready  to  go  out  of  my  way.  You  won't  think 
I'm  an  interfering" —  she  hesitated  a  moment  — "old  thing,  if 
I  say  I  can  guess  why  you  are  skipper  —  why  you're  on  this 
trip  at  all.  Now,  if  you  wranted  to  be  disagreeable  I  expect  you 
could  say  that  you  know  why  I'm  on  board ;  but  I  don't  believe 
you  do  want  to  be  disagreeable,  do  you  ?" 

"Certainly  not,"  said  I,  laughing.  "And  even  if  I  did, 
there's  an  old  proverb  which  forbids  the  pot  to  call  the 
kettle  black." 

"Oh,  you  and  I  and  my  dear  nephew  Ronny  are  pots  and 
kettles  together,  the  three  of  us;  but  our  hearts  are  all  right. 
And  talking  of  hearts  leads  up  to  what  I  want  to  say." 

"About  my  job  as  skipper?" 

"Yes." 

"You  say  you  can  guess  why  I  took  it.  My  idea  is,  that  you 
guessed  the  first  day  on  board." 

"Why,  of  course  I  did.  I  saw  which  one  of  the  girls  it  was, 


RUDOLPH  BREDERODE'S  POINT  OF  VIEW    219 

too,  and  noticed  that  something  had  gone  wrong.  That  inter 
ested  me,  for  I'm  observant." 

"You're  '  a  chiel  amang  us  takkin  notes.'  ' 

"Think  of  a  Dutchman  quoting  that!  However,  even 
peasants  in  Holland  break  into  English  and  German.  Why 
shouldn't  a  Jonkheer  spout  Burns  ?  But  let  me  get  to  my  point. 
I  haven't  found  out  what  the  trouble  is,  but  I  know  you  must 
have  sinned  against  the  girl  in  some  way,  or  done  something 
tactless,  which  is  worse,  and  made  her  angry.  Or  else  she  felt 
it  was  her  duty  to  be  angry,  and  has  been  living  up  to  it  ever 
since.  Talk  of  the  '  way  of  a  man  with  a  maid  ! '  The  way  of 
a  maid  with  a  man  is  funnier  and  more  subtle.  Nell  Van  Buren 
is  an  adorable  girl,  but  the  more  adorable  a  girl  is,  the  more 
homed  she  can  be. " 

"That  ^subtle." 

"Why,  of  course.  What  else  should  it  be  ?  And  the  whole 
thing's  been  as  good  as  a  play  to  watch.  I  wished  you  well 
from  the  beginning,  but  I  thought  you  capable  of  taking  care 
of  yourself." 

"And  now  you've  changed  your  mind  ?" 

"I  have,  since  yesterday.  I'm  sure  something  happened  at 
Amsterdam  in  the  morning,  she  was  so  different.  What  did 
you  do  to  her  ?  " 

"I  bullied  her  a  little,  "I  said. 

"I  thought  as  much.  How  could  you  ?" 

"I  believed  it  would  be  good  for  her." 

"So  it  was.  But  it  wasn't  good  for  you." 

"She  has  been  angelic  since." 

"That's  the  danger-signal.  Poor  man,  you  couldn't  see  it  ?" 

"I  was  rather  encouraged  —  though  it  seemed  too  delightful 
to  be  true,  "I  admitted. 

"Men  are  blind  —  especially  when  they're  in  love.  You 
understand  motor-boats  better  than  you  do  girls. " 

"I  dare  say,"  I  said  meekly. 


220  THE   CHAPERON 

"She's  so  nice  to  you  because  she  means  to  punish  you 
by-and-by,  for  humbling  her  pride.  I'm  warning  you,  as  a 
reward  for  saving  my  treasured  lamb.  If  Tibe  hadn't  fallen 
into  the  water,  and  you  hadn't  pulled  him  out,  perhaps  I'd 
have  left  you  to  founder,  and  watched  the  fun.  But  now  I  say, 
take  care.  She's  dangerous." 

"How  can  you  tell  ?"  I  asked. 

"How  can  I  tell  ?  Because  I'm  a  woman,  of  course,  and 
because  I  should  act  just  the  same  —  if  I  were  young. " 

"Well,  if  you're  right,  what  am  I  to  do  ?" 

"That's  what  I  want  to  talk  to  you  about.  You  must  pretend 
to  be  tired  of  her. " 

"Good  heavens!" 

"She  mustn't  see  that  she  has  any  power  over  you.  She 
cares  for  you  more  than  she  lets  herself  think." 

"I  wish  to  goodness  I  could  believe  that. " 

"There's  no  use  in  your  believing  it.  The  thing  is,  to  make 
her  believe  it  —  make  her  find  it  out,  with  a  shock.  And  there's 
only  one  way  of  doing  that. " 

"What?" 

"Rouse  her  to  jealousy." 

I  laughed  bitterly.  "Tell  me  to  get  her  the  moon." 

"Flirt  with  Miss  Rivers." 

"My  dear  madam,  you've  proved  to  me  that  I'm  a  fool; 
but  I'm  neither  cad  nor  hypocrite." 

"Dear  me,  if  that's  the  way  you're  going  to  take  it,  you're 
lost.  Our  dear  Ronny  will  snatch  her  from  under  your  nose, 
although  she  isn't  a  bit  in  love  with  him,  and  is  with  you,  if 
you'd  consent  to  shake  her  up  a  little." 

"Starr  is  in  love  with  them  both." 

"He  was;  or  rather  he  was  in  love  with  being  in  love.  But 
because  you  want  Miss  Van  Buren,  out  of  pure  contrariness 
he  thinks  now  that  he  wants  her.  Beware  of  her  kindness.  If 
you  should  be  deluded  by  it  into  proposing,  she'd  send  you 


RUDOLPH  BREDERODE'S  POINT  OF  VIEW    221 

about  your  business,  and  perhaps  accept  the  other  man  because 
she  was  wretched,  and  didn't  quite  realize  what  was  the 
matter." 

"You're  a  gloomy  prophetess,"  I  said  miserably. 

"You  won't  take  my  advice  ?" 

"No.  I  can't  do  that.  I  must  do  the  best  I  can  for  myself  in 
some  other  way. " 

"There  isn't  any  other." 

"I  shall  try." 

"Well,  promise  me  you  won't  propose  for  a  fortnight,  any 
how;  or  until  I  give  you  leave." 

"We  —  all  —  always  —  do  whatever  you  wish  us  to,  extra 
ordinary  lady.  I  wonder  why  ?" 

"You  must  go  on  wondering.  But  in  the  meantime  I  will  —  " 

"You  will  - 

"Try  to  save  you  —  as  you  saved  Tibe." 


XX 

THE  Mariner  was  restless  when  we  landed  at  the 
strange  town  of  Monnikendam,  and  had  the  air  — 
or  I  imagined  it  —  of  expecting  something.  As  we 
walked  through  the  wide  Hoog  Straat,  he  glanced 
absent-mindedly  at  the  rows  of  beautiful  seventeenth  century 
houses,  as  if  he  feared  to  see  Sir  Alec  MacNairne  spring  from 
behind  some  ornamented,  ancient  door,  to  accuse  him  as  a 
perjured  villain.  Even  the  exquisite  church  tower,  which  has 
the  semblance  of  holding  aloft  a  carved  goblet  of  old  silver, 
did  not  appeal  to  him  as  it  would  if  he  had  not  been  pre 
occupied.  And  instead  of  laughing  at  the  crowds  of  children 
who  clattered  after  us,  waking  the  clean  and  quiet  streets  with 
the  ring  of  sabots,  he  let  them  get  upon  his  nerves.  The  girls 
were  amused,  however,  and  said  that  the  little  pestering  voices 
babbling  broken  English  without  sense  or  sequence,  were  like 
the  voices  of  the  story  in  the  "Arabian  Nights" —  haunting 
voices  which  tempted  you  to  turn  round,  although  you  had 
been  warned  beforehand  that,  if  you  did,  you  would  lose  your 
human  form  and  become  a  stone. 

Tibe  was  the  real  attraction ;  a  sadder  and  wiser  Tibe  than 
the  Tibe  of  an  hour  ago,  so  sad  and  so  wise  that  he  did  not 
even  attempt  to  insist  upon  a  friendship  with  three  snow-white 
kids  which  joined  the  procession  of  his  admirers. 

Starr  walked  beside  his  aunt,  as  if  to  protect  her  in  case  of 
need;  and  once  or  twice  when  I  tried  to  attract  their  attention 
to  some  notable  fa£ade  or  doorway,  they  were  absorbed  in 
conversation,  and  might  as  well  have  been  in  New  York  as  in 
Monnikendam  on  the  Zuider  Zee. 

222 


RUDOLPH  BREDERODE'S  POINT  OF  VIEW    223 

When  I  had  shown  the  party  what  I  thought  best  worth 
seeing,  I  had  to  leave  them  to  their  own  resources,  and  go 
alone  to  the  boat.  Hendrik  could  not  navigate  "Lorelei"  and 
her  square-shouldered  companion  through  the  series  of  locks 
by  which  the  canal  pours  its  soul  into  the  heart  of  the  Zuider 
Zee. 

It  took  me  half  an  hour  to  do  it,  and  when  I  had  brought 
the  two  craft  to  the  last  of  the  sea-locks,  the  four  people  and 
the  one  dog  were  waiting  for  me,  the  most  persistent  of  the 
children  hovering  in  the  distance. 

"It's  a  bigger  town  than  Broek-in-Waterland,  but  not  as 
interesting, "  said  the  Chaperon,  looking  back  disparagingly  in 
the  direction  of  Monnikendam,  "nor  as  clean.  I  saw  five  bits 
of  paper  in  as  many  streets,  and  a  woman  we  met  didn't  appear 
at  all  inclined  to  commit  suicide  because  she'd  desecrated  the 
pavement  by  upsetting  a  pail  of  milk :  whereas  in  Broek  she'd 
have  been  hauled  off  to  prison.  Each  house  in  Broek  looked 
like  a  model  in  jewelry,  and  the  whole  effect  was  like  a  pre- 
sepio  cut  in  pasteboard ;  but  the  Monnikendam  houses  are  big 
enough  for  people  to  lie  out  straight  in,  when  they  go  to  bed, 
which  seems  quite  commonplace.  Except  for  that  church 
tower,  and  a  few  doorways,  and  the  wonderful  costumes,  and 
the  shoe-shop  where  they  sell  nothing  but  sabots,  I  don't  see 
why  we  bothered  to  stop  at  Monnikendam." 

"I  thought  you  were  keen  to  visit  the  Dead  Cities  of  the 
Zuider  Zee,  "said  I. 

She  stared  at  me  as  blankly  as  if  she  had  not  been  proph 
esying  my  doom  a  little  while  ago. 

"What's  that  got  to  do  with  Monnikendam  ?"  she  demand 
ed. 

"Only  that  Monnikendam  is  one  of  the  Dead  Cities;  your 
first, "  I  explained ;  but  she  cried  incredulously  - 

"Monnikendam  a  Dead  City  of  the  Zuider  Zee  ?  Say  it 
isn't  true." 


224  THE   CHAPERON 

"I'm  afraid  it  is." 

"Oh,  then  I  am  disappointed!  I  thought  we  should  come 
to  the  Dead  Cities  along  the  shore  of  the  sea.  That  we'd  see 
grass-grown  streets  lined  with  empty  houses  fallen  half  to 
pieces,  and  that  perhaps  if  the  water  were  clear  we  could  look 
down,  down,  and  spy  steeples  and  ruined  castles  glimmering 
at  the  bottom.  Won't  some  be  like  that  ?" 

"Not  one,"  I  said.  "They  won't  be  any  deader  than  Monni- 
kendam,  which  was  once  the  playground  of  merchant  princes. 
I  thought  it  was  dead  enough." 

"Not  to  please  me,"  she  answered,  with  the  air  of  a  Madame 
Defarge  in  blue  spectacles. 

The  Mariner  came  up  before  we  had  got  into  open  sea. 
For  the  moment  the  three  ladies  were  occupied  in  watching 
Tibe,  who  had  fallen  asleep  in  his  cape,  and  was  running  with 
all  his  feet  in  some  wild  dream,  flickering  in  every  muscle,  and 
wrinkling  his  black  mug  into  alarming  grimaces. 

"Look  here,"  said  Starr,  cautiously,  "do  you  think  we  can 
paint  out  the  name  of  *  Lorelei '  when  we  get  to  Volendam,  or 
must  we  engage  a  man  to  do  it  ?  Of  course,  if  we  could,  it 
would  cause  less  remark,  especially  if  we  did  the  job  in  the 
evening  or  early  morning. " 

"What!  you  took  that  idea  of  mine  seriously  ?"  I  asked. 

"Certainly.  It  was  a  brilliant  one." 

"I  doubt  if  Miss  Van  Buren  would  consent,"  said  I. 

"She  has,  already." 

"By  Jove !  What  excuse  did  you  make  for  asking  her  ?" 

"I  didn't  ask  her.  What  I  did  was  to  put  the  notion  into 
darling  Auntie's  head.  I  knew  after  that,  the  thing  was  as  good 
as  done.  I  remarked  in  my  vaguest  way  that  it  was  a  wonder 
some  catastrophe  hadn't  happened  to  Tibe  or  other  less 
important  members  of  the  party,  on  board  a  boat  named 
*  Lorelei.'  I  didn't  exactly  say  it  was  an  unlucky  name,  but 
somehow  or  other  she  seemed  to  think  so  at  the  end  of  our 


RUDOLPH  BREDERODE'S  POINT  OF  VIEW    225 

conversation.  Then  she  had  a  conversation  with  Miss  Van 
Buren;  and  the  consequence  is  that  the  sooner  *  Lorelei's* 
name  is  changed  to  '  Mascotte '  the  better  the  owner  will  be 
pleased;  and  no  questions  asked." 

"By  Jove !"  said  I,  again.  There's  something  uncanny  about 
the  Mariner's  adopted  relative.  I  would  give  a  good  deal  to 
know  what  she's  planning  to  do  for  me;  for  if  she  has  decided 
that  my  name  had  better  be  painted  on  or  off  any  heart  of  her 
acquaintance,  I  have  little  doubt  it  will  be. 

Once  out  of  the  sluice,  we  were  immediately  in  the  Zuider 
Zee.  whose  yellow  waves  rocked  "Lorelei"  as  if  she  were  a 
cradle,  causing  the  barge  to  wallow  heavily  in  our  wake.  Should 
the  weather  be  rough  at  any  time  when  we  have  seaports  to  vis 
it,  "Lorelei"  and  her  consort  will  have  to  lie  in  harbor,  and  the 
party  must  be  satisfied  to  do  the  journey  on  a  commonplace 
passenger-boat.  But  on  such  a  day  as  this  there  was  no  danger, 
no  excuse  for  seasickness,  although  I  half  expected  the  ladies 
to  ask  if  we  were  safe.  Apparently,  however,  the  doubt  did  not 
enter  their  heads.  So  far  we  have  had  neither  accident  nor 
stoppage  of  any  kind,  and  they  have  ceased  to  think  it  possible 
that  anything  can  happen  to  the  motor. 

Marken,  with  its  tall-spired  church,  soon  appeared  to  our 
eyes,  the  closely  grouped  little  island-town  seeming  to  float  on 
the  waves  as  San  Giorgio  Maggiore  does  at  Venice,  in  the  sun 
set  hour. 

In  spite  of  my  sneers  at  the  island  theater  and  its  per 
formers,  eagerness  betrayed  itself  in  the  manner  of  my  pass 
engers,  as  we  approached  Marken,  full  petrol  ahead. 

"They  see  us,"  I  announced,  as  we  drew  near  enough  to 
make  out  that  a  crowd  of  huge  green  and  yellow  mounds 
massed  in  the  harbor  were  hay-boats.  "They're  congratulating 
themselves  on  an  unexpected  harvest,  as  the  big  audiences 
for  which  they  cater  every  morning  and  afternoon  in  sum 
mer  are  gone  for  the  day.  When  we  arrive,  there'll  be  a 


226  THE   CHAPERON 

stage-setting  and  a  stage-grouping,  which  would  make  a 
'hit'  for  a  first  act  in  London." 

Still  nearer  we  came,  and  now  we  could  see  men  and 
women  and  little  children  playing  at  unloading  the  hay  with 
pitchforks  from  boats  large  and  small.  It  was  the  prettiest 
sight  imaginable,  and  one  felt  that  there  ought  to  be  an 
accompaniment  of  light  music  from  a  hidden  orchestra. 

The  men  were  dressed  in  black  and  dark  blue  jerseys,  or  long 
jackets  with  silver  buttons,  and  enormously  loose  trousers, 
each  leg  of  which  gave  the  effect  of  a  half -deflated  balloon. 
At  their  brown  throats  glittered  knobs  of  silver  or  gold,  and 
there  was  another  lightning-flash  of  precious  metal  at  the 
waist.  Their  hair  was  cut  straight  across  the  forehead,  over  the 
ears  and  at  the  back  of  the  neck,  as  if  the  barber  had  clapped 
on  a  bowl  and  trimmed  round  it ;  and  from  under  the  brims  of 
impudent  looking  caps,  glowed  narrow,  defiant  blue  eyes. 

But  though  the  men  are  well  enough  as  pictures,  it  is  the 
women  and  children  of  Marken  who  have  made  the  fortune 
of  the  little  island  as  a  show  place;  and  to-day  they  were  at 
their  best,  raking  the  golden  hay,  their  yellow  hair,  their 
brilliant  complexions,  and  still  more  brilliant  costumes  dazzl 
ing  in  the  afternoon  sunlight. 

We  landed,  and  nobody  appeared  to  pay  the  slightest 
attention  to  us.  That  is  part  of  the  daily  play;  but  I  was  the 
only  one  who  knew  this,  and  seeing  these  charming,  wonderful 
creatures  peacefully  pursuing  their  pastoral  occupations  as  if 
there  were  no  stranger  eyes  to  stare,  I  was  reproached  for  my 
base  insinuations. 

"How  could  you  call  them  'sharpers'?"  cried  Phyllis. 
"They're  loves  —  darlings.  I  could  kiss  every  one  of  them. 
They  have  the  most  angelic  faces,  and  the  children  —  why, 
they're  cherubs. " 

It  was  true.  The  picture  was  idyllic,  if  slightly  sensational 
in  coloring.  There  was  scarcely  a  woman  who  was  not  pretty; 


RUDOLPH  BREDERODE'S  POINT  OF  VIEW   227 

and  a  female  thing  must  be  plain  indeed  not  to  look  charming 
in  the  gorgeous  costume  of  Marken.  The  snow-and-rose  com 
plexions,  the  sky-blue  eyes,  the  golden  fringe,  and  two  long 
yellow  curls,  one  on  either  side  the  face,  falling  to  the  breast 
from  under  tight-fitting  mob  caps  covered  with  lace;  the  short, 
very  full  blue  and  black  skirts;  the  richly  embroidered  bodices, 
brilliant  as  the  breast  of  a  parrot;  the  filmy  fichus  and  white 
sleeves ;  the  black  sabots  with  painted  wreaths  of  roses,  turned 
the  little  harbor  of  Marken  into  a  rare  flower-garden.  The 
expressions  of  the  fair  faces  were  beautifully  mild,  also,  and  it 
was  not  strange  to  hear  Miss  Rivers  pronounce  the  women 
angels  and  the  children  cherubs. 

The  group  at  the  hay-boats  formed  the  chorus;  but  we  had 
not  been  on  land  for  many  minutes  before  the  principal 
characters  in  the  play  began  to  appear.  A  young  girl,  who 
might  be  called  the  leading  lady,  came  tripping  down  to  the 
harbor  with  a  tiny  child  hanging  to  each  hand.  All  three  were 
apparently  dressed  alike,  in  rich  embroideries  and  full  skirts 
to  their  ankles,  worn  over  an  incredible  number  of  petticoats; 
but  I  could  tell  by  a  small  rosette  on  the  cap  of  the  middle 
child  that  it  was  a  boy. 

The  trio  approached,  smiling  seraphically;  and  it  goes 
without  saying  that  the  three  ladies  began  petting  the  two 
fantastic  babes. 

"How  do  you  do  ?  You  like  see  inside  a  Marken  house?" 
asked  the  pretty  girl,  speaking  English  with  the  voice  of  a 
young  siren. 

They  all  answered  that  they  would  be  delighted. 

"I  show  my  home.  You  come  with  me." 

Starr  and  I  were  bidden  to  follow,  and  I  would  not  spoil 
sport  by  letting  it  be  known  to  the  actress  that  one  member  of 
the  audience  was  a  Dutchman.  The  charming  creature  with 
her  two  bobbing  golden  curls  was  knitting  a  stocking  almost  as 
long  as  her  little  brother,  and  as  she  turned  to  show  the  way, 


228  THE   CHAPERON 

she  never  for  an  instant  ceased  work.  Toiling  after  her,  we 
walked  along  the  dyke  where  the  fishermen's  houses  stand  in 
rows,  hoisted  on  poles  like  storks'  nests,  out  of  the  reach  of 
inundations. 

Needles  glittering,  our  guide  led  us  to  the  foot  of  a  steep 
flight  of  steps  belonging  to  a  house  like  all  the  other  houses; 
so  much  like,  that  it  would  seem  we  were  being  ushered  into  an 
ordinary  specimen  of  a  fisher-family  dwelling;  but  I  knew 
better. 

Now  the  scene  changed.  The  first  stage-setting  was  Marken 
Harbor  with  the  hay-boats.  For  the  second  act  we  had  the 
interior  of  the  honest  fisherman's  cottage.  And  what  an  in 
terior  it  was ! 

In  all  Europe  there  is  no  such  place  as  Marken,  no  such 
dresses,  no  such  golden  curls,  no  such  rooms  as  these  into 
which  a  coquettishly  capped  mother  with  a  marvelous  doll  of 
a  baby  in  her  arms,  was  sweetly  inviting  us. 

"Only  think  of  these  fisher-folk  living  in  such  wonderful 
little  jewel-caskets  of  houses !"  exclaimed  Phyllis,  to  be  echoed 
by  murmurs  of  admiration  from  the  others.  But  I  said  nothing. 
And  it  really  was  like  wandering  into  a  fairy  picture-book.  It 
was  impossible  to  imagine  any  other  house  resembling  this, 
unless  that  of  Silverhair's  Three  Bears. 

The  polished  green  walls  were  almost  hidden  with  brightly 
colored  Dutch  placks,  and  shelves  covered  with  little  useless 
ornaments.  The  chairs  were  yellow,  with  roses  painted  over 
them,  and  varnished  till  they  twinkled.  The  family  beds  in 
the  wall  had  white  curtains  as  crisp  as  new  banknotes,  and 
white  knitted  coverlets  with  wool-lace  ruffles ;  but  as  the  green 
doors  of  the  beds  were  kept  shut  for  the  day,  you  would  not 
have  suspected  the  elegance  within,  had  not  the  Siren  opened 
them  for  inspection.  Under  the  door  of  each  bed  was  placed 
a  little  red  bench,  festooned  with  painted  flowers;  and  as  there 
were  nine  in  the  family  and  only  four  beds,  counting  the  little 


RUDOLPH  BREDERODE'S  POINT  OF  VIEW    229 

one  underneath  for  the  babies,  the  disposition  of  forces  at  night 
did  not  bear  thinking  of. 

All  the  tables  had  crocheted  white  covers,  and  were  decked 
with  vases  and  fresh  flowers,  glittering  brass  and  pewter 
things,  and  gay  old  china.  But  it  was  the  next  room  —  a 
small  one  adjoining  the  big  living-room  —  which  roused  the 
highest  admiration.  There  was  not  much  furniture,  but  up  to 
the  low  ceiling  the  walls  were  concealed  by  shelves  laden  with 
gorgeously  painted  wooden  boxes,  little  and  big.  They  were 
of  all  colors  and  all  brightly  varnished.  Some  were  plain  blue, 
or  green,  or  crimson;  others  had  Dutch  or  Japanese  scenery 
painted  on  their  sides,  and  the  largest  could  not  have  been 
more  than  a  foot  and  a  half  long,  by  eight  inches  in  height. 

"This  must  be  where  they  keep  their  cake  and  bread,  and 
kitchen  stores,"  said  Miss  Rivers;  but  with  a  smile  the  Siren 
began  to  open  the  boxes. 

Instead  of  sugar  and  spices  they  contained  the  family 
wardrobe;  folded  neck-handkerchiefs  in  great  variety;  little 
embroidered  jackets  for  the  children;  lace-covered  caps; 
bodices,  and  even  —  in  the  largest  boxes  —  petticoats. 

The  ladies,  and  Starr  also,  were  charmed  with  everything, 
especially  the  dark,  secretive  loft,  as  full  of  suspended  fishing 
nets  as  Bluebeard's  closet  was  of  wives.  They  had  never  seen 
such  a  distracting  place  as  Marken,  or  such  kind  and  pretty 
people.  It  was  nearly  an  hour  before  is  occurred  to  them  that 
they  had  better  say  good-by,  and  by  that  time  they  knew  the 
whole  history  of  the  interesting  family. 

They  shook  hands  with  each  one  of  the  nine,  including  the 
baby,  patted  the  cat  and  then  lingered  outside,  taking  photo 
graphs.  Some  of  the  neighbors  —  young  women  and  girls, 
with  dimples  in  the  roses  of  their  cheeks  —  drew  nearer,  as  if 
lured  by  admiration  of  the  ladies.  Nell  and  Phyllis,  seeing 
them,  beckoned,  and  the  fair  creatures  obeyed  the  summons 
with  an  appearance  of  shyness.  They  too,  were  photographed; 


230  THE  CHAPERON 

and  after  many  politenesses  had  been  exchanged,  Starr  came 
to  ask  if  I  thought  the  dear  things'  feelings  would  be  hurt  by 
a  small  offering  of  money. 

"They  may,  and  probably  will  be  —  if  the  offering  is  small," 
said  I,  dryly. 

"What  are  you  insinuating  ?"  exclaimed  Nell. 

Meanwhile  the  Siren,  her  sisters  and  brothers,  and  a  num 
ber  of  handsome  friends  of  her  own  age,  pinned  wary  eyes  upon 
us.  The  dimples  were  in  abeyance,  for  the  guileless  angels 
guessed  the  subject  of  conversation,  and  were  preparing  for 
eventualities. 

"I  don't  think  they'll  refuse  money,"  I  said.  "In  fact,  they 
expect  it." 

"How  much  ought  we  to  give  ?"  asked  Starr. 

"Whatever  you  have  handy,  and  whatever  you  think  it's 
worth,"  said  I,  exploring  my  pockets  for  silver. 

"I  suppose  the  family  would  be  delighted  with  the  gulden," 
suggested  Phyllis.  "We  might  hand  one  child  another,  to 
divide  among  her  little  friends,  and  buy  them  sweets." 

"You  can  try  that,  and  see  if  they  thank  you,"  I  replied. 

"Why,  of  course  they  will,"  said  the  Chaperon.  "It's  easy 
to  see  that  they  have  lovely  dispositions,  except  the  little  boy 
who  was  afraid  of  Tibe,  just  because  he  tried  in  play  to  bite 
off  the  button  on  the  back  of  his  cap." 

I  stood  still  and  watched  the  others  reviewing  their  change, 
putting  their  bits  of  silver  together  to  make  up  the  sum  de 
cided  upon,  as  small  money  is  always  at  a  premium.  I  did  not 
add  my  mite  to  the  fund,  for  I  knew  what  would  happen  in 
the  end. 

Finally,  Phyllis  was  chosen  as  emissary  for  the  party. 

"Good-by  again,"  she  said  sweetly  to  our  late  guide. 
"Here's  something  for  your  little  brothers  and  sisters  to  re 
member  us  by;  and  will  you  ask  your  companions  to  buy 
themselves  some  sweets  with  the  rest  ?" 


RUDOLPH  BREDERODE'S  POINT  OF  VIEW   231 

But  in  a  second  the  Siren  was  transformed  into  a  harpy. 
Her  blue  eyes  turned  to  steel,  and  shot  lightning.  The  children, 
understanding  the  situation,  stood  by  looking  like  little  sharks, 
and  the  handsome  friends  suddenly  assumed  the  air  of  fierce 
wild  birds  in  the  Zoo,  just  tame  enough  to  eat  out  of  your 
hand  if  you  offer  what  they  like,  but  hating  and  scorning  you  in 
their  cold  hearts  —  the  bright-plumaged  things ;  ready  to  bite 
your  finger  to  the  bone,  should  you  tease  instead  of  feed  them. 

Our  guide  held  up  a  hand  with  all  her  fingers  spread  out. 
"Five!  Five!"  she  demanded  shrilly.  "Every  one  of  you  give 
one  gulden.  All  this  you  gave  is  to  my  friends.  Not  enough  for 
me.  I  have  more.  I  always  have  more.  One  gulden  every 
person." 

"Nonsense,"  said  I  in  Dutch.  "Here's  another  gulden. 
Take  that  and  go  away.  It's  twice  too  much  for  you." 

I  flung  her  the  money,  and  she  clutched  it;  but  she  had 
not  finished  with  us  yet,  nor  had  the  others.  Surprised  and 
horrified  at  the  sudden  change  in  the  pink  and  white  angels, 
the  ladies  turned  away,  and  hurried  toward  the  boat.  For  an 
instant  the  creatures  were  abashed  by  my  knowledge  of  Dutch, 
but  it  was  only  for  an  instant.  The  mother  of  nine,  standing 
in  the  doorway  of  the  green  bandbox  house,  baby  in  arms, 
shrieked  encouragement  to  her  daughter.  The  Siren  clattered 
after  us  with  angrily  ringing  sabots,  raging  for  money;  the 
children  cried;  the  friends  shouted  frank  criticisms  of  our 
features,  our  hats,  our  manners.  I  would  have  gone  away 
without  rewarding  their  blackmail  with  another  penny;  but  in 
desperation  Starr  turned  and  dashed  four  or  five  gulden  at  the 
crowd.  The  coins  rolled,  and  the  bright  beings  swooped,  more 
than  ever  like  a  flock  of  gaudy,  savage  birds  in  their  greed. 

Thus  we  left  them,  and  I  saw  that  the  ladies  were  thankful 
to  be  safe  aboard  "Lorelei"  again. 

"Fiends!"  gasped  the  Chaperon,  gazing  shoreward  in  a 
kind  of  evil  fascination.  "And  we  called  them  angels  and 


232  THE   CHAPERON 

cherubs !  I  think  you  are  good,  Jonkheer,  not  to  say,  *I  told 

you  so.'  * 

"They're  terrible  —  beautiful  and  terrible,"  said  Starr, 
"like  figures  that  have  been  brought  to  life  and  have  sprung  at 
you  out  of  a  picture,  to  suck  your  blood  —  in  answer  to  some 
wicked  wish,  that  you  regret  the  minute  it's  uttered." 

"It  was  a  shock  to  be  undeceived,  just  at  the  last!"  sighed 
Phyllis.  "My  nerves  are  quite  upset." 

"I  shall  dream  of  them  to-night,"  said  Nell;  "so  don't  be 
surprised,  everybody,  if  you  hear  screams  in  the  dark  hours. 
Still,  I'm  glad  we  went;  I  wouldn't  have  missed  it." 

"Nor  I,"  added  the  Chaperon.  "I  feel  as  if  we'd  paid  a  visit 
to  some  village  of  the  Orient,  and  been  repulsed  by  savages 
with  great  slaughter.  And  —  I  wasn't  going  to  mention  it  if 
they'd  stayed  nice,  it  would  have  seemed  so  treacherous;  but 
did  you  notice,  in  that  wonderful  little  waxwork  house,  there 
was  no  visible  place  to  wash  f  " 

"They  don't  wash,"  said  I,  "except  their  hands  and  faces. 
Most  Dutch  peasants  consider  bathing  a  dirty  habit.  They 
say  they  are  clean,  and  so,  of  course,  they  don't  need  to  bathe. " 

"That  makes  them  seem  more  like  birds  than  ever,"  ex 
claimed  Nell;  "their  clothes  are  only  plumage.  I  think  of  them 
as  real  people  living  real  lives.  It's  true,  Marken's  a  theater, 
three  thousand  meters  long  and  a  thousand  meters  wide,  and 
you  pay  the  actors  for  your  seats.  The  harbor  itself  isn't  half 
as  picturesque  as  Spaakenberg,  with  its  crowding  masts  and 
brown  haze  of  fishing-nets;  but  the  people  are  worth  paying 
for." 

"Tourists  like  ourselves  have  spoiled  them;  they  were 
genuine  once,"  I  said.  "Probably  Spaakenberg,  which  is  so 
unsophisticated  now,  will  be  like  Marken  one  day;  and  even 
at  Volendam,  though  the  people  have  kept  their  heads  (which 
shows  they  have  a  sense  of  humor),  they're  not  unaware  of 
their  artistic  value. 


RUDOLPH  BREDERODE'S  POINT  OF  VIEW    233 

"They  look  down  on  the  islanders  as  theatrical;  but  it's 
partly  jealousy.  Marken  has  a  history,  you  know;  it  was  once 
connected  with  the  mainland,  but  that  was  as  long  ago  as  the 
thirteenth  century,  and  ever  since  the  inhabitants  have  prided 
themselves  on  their  old  customs  and  costumes.  They're  proud 
of  the  length  of  time  they've  dared  to  be  Protestant;  and  no 
Marken  man  would  dream  of  crossing  to  Papist  Volendam  for 
a  wife,  though  Volendam's  celebrated  for  beautiful  girls.  Nor 
would  any  of  the  'fierce,  tropical  birds,'  as  you  call  them, 
exchange  their  island  roost  for  the  mainland,  although  Mark- 
en,  in  times  of  flood,  is  a  most  uncomfortable  perch,  and  the 
birds  have  to  go  about  in  boats.  But  here  we  come  to  Volen 
dam,  and  you'll  be  able  to  make  up  your  mind  which  of  the 
two  fishing- villages  is  more  interesting." 

We  had  crossed  the  short  expanse  of  sea,  and  passing  a 
small  lighthouse  were  entering  a  square  harbor  lined  with 
fishing-boats.  Stoutly  built,  solid  fishing-boats  they  were, 
meant  for  stormy  weather;  and  their  metal  pennons,  which 
could  never  droop  in  deadest  calm,  flew  bravely,  all  in  the 
same  direction,  like  flags  in  a  company  of  lances  in  an  old 
Froissart  picture. 

"Is  Volendam  celebrated  for  tall  men  as  well  as  beautiful 
girls  ?"  asked  Nell,  as  we  drew  near  enough  to  see  figures 
moving.  "There  are  several  there,  but  one  is  almost  the  tallest 
man  I  ever  saw  —  except  my  cousin  Robert." 

"He  looks  singularly  like  your  cousin  Robert,"  added  Starr, 
not  too  joyously. 

"I  think  it  is  your  cousin  Robert,"  said  I. 

"I'm  sure  it  is  your  cousin  Robert,"  murmured  Miss  Rivers. 

"But  why  is  your  cousin  Robert  here  ?"  inquired  the  Chap 
eron.  "Could  he  have  known  you  were  coming  ?w 

"I  didn't  write  to  him,"  said  Nell. 

"I  didn't,  "said  I. 

Nobody  else  spoke;  but  Miss  Rivers  blushed. 


PHYLLIS  RIVERS'  POINT  OF  VIEW 
XXI 

I   WROTE  to  Mr.  van  Buren  because  he  asked  me  to. 
He  never  approved  of  the  trip,  and  he  said  that  he 
would  be  much  obliged  if  I'd  drop  him  a  line  every 
few  days  to  keep  him  from  worrying  about  Nell. 
I  didn't  mention  the  conversation  to  her,  as  she  would  be 
sure  to  think  it  nonsense,  since  he  lived  without  hearing  about 
her  welfare  for  twenty  years,  and  never  gave  himself  a  mo 
ment's  anxiety.  But,  of  course,  that  was  different.  She  is  in  his 
country  now,  and  he  feels  in  a  way  responsible  for  her,  as  if  he 
were  a  guardian;  only  he  can't  make  her  do  things,  because  he 
has  no  legal  rights.  Besides,  he  is  young  —  not  more  than  five 
or  six  years  older  than  she  is  —  but  I  wish  I  had  such  a 
guardian.  Instead  of  going  against  his  advice,  I  would  obey, 
and  even  ask  for  it. 

Mr.  van  Buren  is  the  wisest  young  man  I  ever  met,  as  well 
as  the  best  looking,  and  I  am  vexed  with  Nell  because  she 
treats  him  as  if  he  were  a  big  school-boy.  To  make  up  for  her 
ingratitude  —  I'm  afraid  it  amounts  to  that  —  I  have  tried  to 
show  that  /  appreciate  his  kindness.  As  he's  engaged,  I  can 
be  nice  without  danger  of  his  fancying  that  I'm  flirting;  and 
the  poor  fellow  has  seemed  pleased  with  the  few  little  things 
I've  been  able  to  do  by  way  of  expressing  our  thanks.  I  wish 
I  could  believe  that  the  girl  he's  going  to  marry  is  good 
enough  for  him,  but  she  is  so  plain,  and  seems  to  have  rather 
an  uncertain  temper.  Nell  says  she  is  a  "little  cat/'  but  I 
should  be  sorry  to  call  any  girl  such  a  name,  though  I've 

235 


236  THE   CHAPERON 

known  many  cats  better  looking  and  more  agreeable  than 

she. 

I  have  always  been  brought  up  to  think  it  rather  rude  to 
send  postcards,  unless  they  are  picture  ones  for  people  to  put 
in  their  albums;  and  of  course  it  would  be  silly  flooding  Mr. 
van  Buren  with  pictures  of  places  he  has  seen  dozens  of  times, 
so  when  I  have  written  to  him,  I  felt  obliged  to  write  regular 
letters. 

I  meant  to  scribble  a  line  or  two ;  but  Holland  is  so  fascinat 
ing  that  I  have  found  myself  running  on  about  it,  and  Mr. 
van  Buren  has  seemed  grateful  because  it's  his  native  land, 
and  the  places  he  likes  best  have  turned  out  to  be  my  favorites. 
In  that  way  we  have  happened  to  write  each  other  quite  long 
letters,  almost  every  day,  for  he  has  wanted  to  tell  me  I  must 
be  sure  to  see  so  and  so,  or  do  so  and  so,  and  I  have  had  to 
answer  that  I  have  seen  it  or  done  it,  and  liked  it  as  much  as 
he  thought  I  would. 

If  our  trip  could  be  improved  it  would  be  by  having  Mr. 
van  Buren  with  us ;  but  naturally  that's  impossible,  as  he's  a 
man  of  affairs,  and  Freule  Menela  van  der  Windt  would  hard 
ly  sympathize  with  his  kind  wish  to  take  care  of  his  cousin,  if 
he  carried  it  so  far  as  to  leave  her  for  any  length  of  time, 
simply  on  account  of  Nell.  As  it  is,  his  letters,  and  exchanging 
ideas  with  him,  have  been  a  pleasure  to  me,  and  I  should  have 
liked  to  share  it  with  Nell  —  as  we  always  have  shared  every 
thing  —  if  I  hadn't  been  afraid  she  would  laugh.  Her  cousin 
is  too  fine  a  fellow  to  be  laughed  at,  so  I  have  protected  him  by 
keeping  our  correspondence  to  myself. 

I  didn't  want  to  come  to  Holland,  as  it  seemed  such  a 
terrifying  adventure  for  Nell  and  me  to  rush  away  from  Eng 
land  and  go  darting  about  in  a  motor-boat;  and  so  horribly 
extravagant  to  spend  all  the  money  poor  Captain  Noble  left,  in 
enjoying  ourselves  for  a  few  weeks.  However,  it  was  to  be, 
and  there  is  something  about  Holland  which  appeals  to  me 


PHYLLIS    RIVERS'    POINT    OF   VIEW        237 

more  than  I  dreamed  any  country  except  England  could.  I 
loved  it  almost  from  the  minute  we  landed;  but  when  you  like 
any  person  in  a  foreign  place  it  makes  you  like  the  place  itself 
better. 

I  do  think  Holland  is  the  most  complete  little  country  im 
aginable.  While  you  are  in  it,  it  feels  like  the  whole  world,  be 
cause  you  appear  to  be  in  the  very  middle  of  the  world;  and, 
when  you  look  over  the  wide,  flat  spaces,  you  think  that  your 
eyes  reach  to  the  end  of  everything. 

And  then,  all  you  see  is  so  characteristic  of  Holland,  even 
the  sunrises  and  sunsets.  Nothing  that  you  find  in  Holland 
could  be  in  its  right  place  anywhere  else  on  earth ;  but  perhaps 
one  can  hardly  say  that  Holland  is  on  earth.  Now  I've  got  to 
kown  the  "Hollow  Land"  (as  Jonkheer  Brederode  often  calls 
it),  I  think  if  I  were  kidnapped  from  England,  taken  up  in  a 
balloon,  and  dropped  down  here,  even  in  a  town  I'd  never 
seen,  and  without  any  canals,  I  should  say,  the  minute  I 
opened  my  eyes  and  found  my  breath,  "Why,  I'm  in  dear 
little  Holland." 

I  should  like  to  be  here  in  winter.  Mr.  van  Buren  says  if 
we'll  come  he'll  teach  me  to  skate;  and,  according  to  Jonkheer 
Brederode,  he  is  a  "champion  long-distance  skater."  But  then 
Mr.  van  Buren  told  me  the  same  thing  about  Jonkheer 
Brederode.  They  are  great  friends.  And  talking  about  the 
Jonkheer,  I  don't  know  what  to  make  of  him  lately. 

I  believed  at  first  that  he  was  in  love  with  Nell,  and  had 
got  himself  asked  on  board  "Lorelei"  so  that  he  might  have  the 
chance  of  knowing  her  better.  She  had  the  same  impression,  I 
think,  though  she  never  said  so  to  me,  and  she  was  very  angry 
about  something  Freule  Menela  told  us.  It  seems  there  was  a 
bet,  I  don't  know  exactly  about  what,  except  that  Nell  was 
concerned  in  it,  and  Mr.  van  Buren  mentioned  it  to  his  fiancee. 
She  oughtn't  to  have  repeated  it  to  us,  but  she  did,  and  gave 
the  impression  that  Jonkheer  Brederode  was  a  tremendous 


238  THE   CHAPERON 

flirt,  who  fancied  himself  irresistible  with  women.  She  warned 
us  both  that  if  he  won  his  bet,  and  contrived  to  meet  us  again, 
we  weren't  to  be  carried  away  by  any  signs  of  admiration  on 
his  part,  for  it  was  just  his  way,  and  he  would  be  too  pleased 
if  we  showed  ourselves  flattered. 

This  made  Nell  furious,  and  she  said  that  in  her  opinion 
Jonkheer  Brederode  ought  to  be  flattered  if  we  were  in  the 
least  nice  to  him,  but  she  for  one  didn't  intend  to  be. 

I  was  a  little  prejudiced  against  him,  too,  although  I  ad 
mired  him  very  much  when  I  saw  him  in  the  Prinzenhof  at 
Delft,  and  afterwards  at  the  Concours  Hippique.  I  thought 
Nell  might,  in  any  case,  be  grateful  to  him  for  saving  her  when 
the  bathing-machine  horse  ran  away  with  her  into  the  sea. 

I  didn't  tell  Mr.  van  Buren  what  Freule  Menela  said,  for  it 
would  have  been  mean,  as  he  might  have  felt  vexed  with  her. 
But  for  his  sake,  as  Jonkheer  Brederode  is  such  a  hero  in  his 
eyes,  I  determined  if  ever  we  saw  the  Jonkheer  again  I 
wouldn't  judge  him  too  severely,  and  would  give  him  the 
benefit  of  the  doubt  as  long  as  I  could. 

It  was  a  surprise,  though,  to  find  that  he  was  the  "friend" 
Mr.  Starr  had  got  as  skipper,  when  the  real  skipper  —  the 
professional  one  —  failed  at  the  last  moment. 

Naturally,  I  remembered  instantly  about  the  bet,  which 
somehow  concerned  his  being  introduced  to  Nell  within  a 
certain  length  of  time  —  so  Freule  Menela  said  —  and  I 
couldn't  help  thinking  it  was  impertinent,  winning  it  in  such 
a  way  on  Nell's  own  boat. 

However,  Nell  was  so  horrid  to  him  from  the  first  minute, 
I  grew  sorry  for  the  poor  fellow,  and  he  took  her  snubs  like  a 
combination  of  saint  and  gentleman.  The  more  I  saw  of  him 
the  more  I  began  to  feel  that  Freule  Menela  van  der  Windt 
must  have  done  him  an  injustice,  at  least  in  some  of  the  things 
she  told  us. 

I  try  to  keep  watch  over  my  temper  always,  and  I  hope  it 


PHYLLIS    RIVERS'    POINT   OF   VIEW       239 

isn't  too  bad;  yet  I'm  certain  that  in  Jonkheer  Brederode's 
place  I  couldn't  have  endured  Nell's  behavior,  but  would 
have  stopped  being  skipper  the  second  day  out,  even  if  I  left 
a  whole  party  of  inoffensive  people  stranded.  Instead  of  leav 
ing  us  in  the  lurch  after  undertaking  to  act  as  skipper,  how 
ever,  he  has  worked  for  us  like  a  Trojan.  Not  only  has  he 
been  skipper,  but  guide,  philosopher  and  friend  —  to  say 
nothing  of  chauffeur  on  shore,  and  "general  provider"  of 
motor-cars,  carriages,  surprise-dinners,  flowers,  and  fruit  on 
board  the  boat. 

The  trip  would  have  been  comparatively  tame,  if  it  hadn't 
been  for  him,  as  none  of  the  rest  of  us  know  anything  about 
Holland,  and  he  knows  everything.  No  trouble  has  seemed 
too  much  for  him,  if  it  could  add  in  any  way  to  our  happiness ; 
and  I  thought  it  was  all  for  Nell. 

He  looked  at  her  so  wistfully  sometimes,  and  such  a  dark 
red  came  up  to  his  forehead  when  she  said  anything  particu 
larly  sarcastic  or  snubbing,  that  even  if  he  deserved  it  I 
couldn't  bear  to  see  him  treated  so,  while  he  was  doing  every 
thing  for  our  pleasure.  So  I  tried  to  be  nice  to  him,  just  as  I 
have  to  Mr.  van  Buren;  and,  oddly  enough,  both  times  with 
the  same  motive  —  to  make  up  for  Nell's  naughtiness. 

I  could  see  that  the  Jonkheer  was  grateful,  and  liked  me 
a  little;  but  the  night  Mr.  van  Buren  met  us  at  Volendam  so 
unexpectedly  Lady  MacNairne  gave  Nell  and  me  both  quite 
a  shock.  She  said  she  had  it  on  very  good  authority  that  it  was 
entirely  a  mistake  about  Jonkheer  Brederode  being  in  love 
with  Nell.  Perhaps  he  had  wished  to  blind  people  by  making 
them  think  so,  but  it  was  really  for  my  sake  he  had  suggested 
to  his  friend,  Mr.  Starr,  that  he  should  be  skipper  of  "Lorelei." 

"I  won't  go  so  far  as  to  say,"  Lady  MacNairne  went  on, 
"that  he's  actually  in  love  with  Phyllis"  (she  calls  us  "Phyllis" 
and  "Nell"  now),  "but  he  was  so  much  taken  that  he  wished 
to  make  her  acquaintance.  At  present  it  entirely  rests  with 


240  THE   CHAPERON 

Phyllis  whether  he  goes  on  to  fall  in  love  or  stops  at  admira 
tion." 

She  said  this  before  Nell;  and  although  Nell  has  behaved 
so  hatefully  to  him  (except  for  the  last  three  or  four  days, 
when  she  has  been  nicer),  she  didn't  look  as  much  relieved 
as  I  should  in  her  place.  She  went  very  pink,  and  then  very 
pale,  with  anger  at  Lady  MacNairne  for  talking  on  such  a 
subject,  she  explained  afterwards.  But  at  the  time  she  didn't 
show  any  resentment  against  Lady  MacNairne.  She  only 
laughed  and  said,  "Dear  me,  how  interesting.  What  shall  you 
do  about  it,  Phil  ?" 

"I  shall  show  him  that  I  am  his  friend,"  I  answered  decided 
ly.  "I  like  and  admire  him,  and  I  hope  I  shall  keep  his  friend 
ship  always." 

"That's  a  pretty  beginning  to  what  may  be  a  pretty  ro 
mance,  isn't  it,  Tibe,  darling  ?"  asked  Lady  MacNairne. 

I  tried  not  to  blush,  but  usually  the  more  you  try  not  to 
blush  the  more  you  do.  It  was  so  with  me  then,  just  as  it  was 
when  we  were  coming  into  harbor  at  Volendam,  and  every 
body  said  to  Nell,  "There  is  your  cousin  Robert !"  or  "Why  is 
your  cousin  Robert  here  ?" 

I  was  glad  to  stoop  down  and  pat  Tibe,  who  is  the  nicest 
dog  I  ever  knew.  It's  true,  as  Nell  says,  he  is  "geared  ridicu 
lously  low " ;  and  having  such  a  short  nose  and  stick  out  lower 
jaw,  when  he  wants  to  eat  or  smell  things,  he  has  practically 
to  stand  on  his  head ;  also  he  can  never  see  anything  that  goes 
on  under  his  chin.  She  says,  too,  that  when  he's  troubled,  and 
a  lot  of  lines  meet  together  at  one  point  in  the  middle  of  his 
forehead,  his  face  looks  exactly  like  Clapham  Junction;  and 
so  it  does.  Nevertheless,  he's  beautiful,  and  has  the  sort  of 
features  Old  Masters  gave  dogs  in  pictures,  features  more  like 
those  of  people  than  animals,  and  a  human  expression  in  the 
eyes. 

It  is  odd,  Nell  and  I  used  to  tell  each  other  every  thought 


I  was  glad  to  stoop  down  and  pat  Tibe 


PHYLLIS   RIVERS'   POINT   OF   VIEW       241 

we  had,  and  we  talked  over  all  the  people  we  knew;  but  now, 
though  I  think  a  good  deal  about  Jonkheer  Brederode,  and 
wonder  how  he  really  does  feel  toward  us  both,  I  never  speak 
about  him  to  Nell  when  I  can  avoid  it,  and  she  never  mentions 
his  name  to  me. 

I  don't  know  what  happened  to  make  her  suddenly  nice 
to  him  at  Amsterdam,  but  something  did,  and  she  is  nice  still, 
only  her  manner  is  different  somehow.  I  can  hardly  tell  what 
the  difference  is,  but  it  is  there.  At  first,  when  we  went  to 
Spaakenberg  and  the  other  places,  before  Lady  MacNairne 
said  that  thing,  she  was  agreeable  to  the  Jonkheer  in  a  brilliant, 
bewitching,  coquettish  sort  of  way,  as  though  she  wished  after 
all  to  attract  him.  But  since  that  evening  at  the  Hotel  Spaan- 
der,  in  Volendam,  she  has  been  quite  subdued.  Jonkheer 
Brederode  is  quiet  and  rather  distant,  too,  and  sometimes  I 
think  he  speaks  to  Nell  coldly,  as  if  he  distrusted  such  shy 
signs  of  friendliness  as  she  still  shows. 

Now,  it  seems  to  me  that  he  and  Mr.  van  Buren  and  Mr. 
Starr  are  three  friends  worth  having,  not  just  the  accidental 
sort  of  friends  ("friendines"  Nell  calls  that  kind)  who  happen 
to  be  your  friends  because  you  were  thrown  with  them  some 
where,  and  you  would  not  miss  them  dreadfully  if  by-and-by 
you  drifted  apart.  They  seem  ones  you  were  destined  to  meet, 
just  as  much  as  you  are  destined  to  be  born,  and  to  die;  friends 
intended  to  be  in  your  life  and  never  go  out  of  it.  I  scarcely 
knew  in  the  beginning  of  our  acquaintance  which  of  the  three 
I  liked  best;  and  now  that  I  do  know,  I'm  equally  nice  to  them 
all,  because  one  should  do  as  one  would  be  done  by,  and  I  love 
to  have  people  nice  to  me. 

Mr.  van  Buren  has  been  with  us  the  last  two  days,  and 
I  can  see  that  he  watches  his  friend  and  me,  if  we  chance  to 
be  together.  I  should  like  to  know  if  he,  too,  has  the  idea  that 
Jonkheer  Brederode  cares  about  me,  and,  if  so,  whether  he 
wonders  how  it's  possible  for  any  man  to  admire  me  more  than 


242  THE   CHAPERON 

Nell,  who  is  so  beautiful  and  brilliant  and  amusing  ?  I  can't 
help  being  flattered  that  such  an  interesting  person  as  the 
Jonkheer  should  like  my  society  better  than  Nell's,  though  I 
can  hardly  believe  it's  true.  But  somehow  it  would  be  nice 
to  have  Mr.  van  Buren  believe  it,  as  then  he  would  be  obliged 
to  think  me  quite  a  fascinating  girl,  even  though  it  probably 
wouldn't  have  occurred  to  him  before  —  being  engaged  and  so 
on  —  to  regard  me  in  that  light  of  his  own  accord. 

I  should  love  to  talk  to  Nell  about  all  this  in  the  sweet  old 
way  we  used  to  have,  and  I  do  miss  a  confidante.  Lady  Mac- 
Nairne  is  a  most  wonderful  little  woman,  who  manages  every 
one  of  us,  and  we  would  do  anything  to  please  her;  yet  I 
should  never  dream  of  confiding  in  her.  I  don't  know  why, 
unless  it's  because  she's  all  blue  spectacles  and  gray  hair.  And 
if  you  never  can  see  what  people  are  thinking  about  behind 
their  glasses,  whether  they're  sighing  over  your  troubles  or 
laughing,  how  can  you  tell  them  sacred  things  about  yourself  ? 

Sometimes  I  think  it  a  pity  that  Mr.  Starr  is  a  man.  If  only 
he  were  a  girl  he  would  be  the  most  delightful  person  to  have 
for  a  confidant.  In  spite  of  his  impish  moods,  which  make  him 
seem  often  like  an  "elfin  boy,"  as  Jonkheer  Brederode  says, 
he's  extraordinarily  sympathetic.  I  feel  that  he  understands 
Nell  and  me  thoroughly,  and  as  he  is  good  to  look  at,  and 
clever  and  fascinating  in  his  manner  when  he  chooses,  I 
wonder  why  neither  of  us  has  fallen  in  love  with  him.  But  very 
likely  Nell  has.  If  she  hasn't  she  has  been  flirting  with  him 
horribly. 


XXII 

IT  was  like  finding  an  old  friend  to  see  Mr.  van  Buren 
waiting  to  meet  us  at  quaint  little  Volendam.  He  ex 
plained  that  Freule  Menela  had  gone  to  Brussels  to 
pay  a  visit;  so,  hearing  from  me  when  we  would  arrive, 
he  ran  out  to  inquire  how  his  cousin  was  getting  on.  When  his 
fiancee  came  back,  he  said,  he  would  bring  her  and  his  sisters 
to  see  us. 

Our  first  sight  of  Volendam  was  at  sunset.  Everything 
seemed  so  beautiful,  and  I  felt  so  happy  walking  up  to  the 
hotel  where  we  were  to  spend  the  night,  that  I  should  have 
liked  to  sing.  Great  clouds  had  boiled  up  out  of  the  west;  but 
underneath,  a  wonderful,  almost  supernatural  light  streamed 
over  the  sea.  The  sky  was  indigo,  and  the  water  a  sullen  lead 
color;  but  along  the  horizon  blazed  a  belt  of  gold,  and  the  sails 
on  a  fleet  of  fishing-boats  were  scarlet,  like  a  bed  of  red  ger 
aniums  blooming  in  the  sea. 

It  was  in  this  strange  light  that  we  walked  from  the  harbor 
up  the  main  street  of  the  village,  which  is  a  long  dyke  of  black 
Norwegian  granite,  protecting  little  pointed-roofed  houses, 
the  lower  stories  of  a  sober  color,  the  upper  ones  with  the 
peaked  gables  pea-green  or  blue,  and  the  sabots  of  the  family 
lying  on  the  door- steps.  Here  and  there  in  a  window  were  a 
few  bits  of  gaudy  china  for  sale,  or  a  sabot  over  a  door  as  the 
sign  of  a  shoe-shop;  but  we  hardly  looked  at  the  houses,  so 
interesting  were  their  inmates,  who  seemed  to  be  all  in  the 
street. 

Along  the  dyke  squatted  a  double  row  of  men,  old  and 
young  —  mostly  old;  but  all  as  brown  as  if  they  had  been 

243 


244  THE   CHAPERON 

carved  out  of  oak.  Every  one  had  a  tight-fitting  jersey  and 
enormously  baggy  trousers,  like  those  other  men  round  the 
corner  of  the  Zuider  Zee  at  Marken.  But  at  Marken  the 
jerseys  were  dark  and  here  of  the  most  wonderful  crimson; 
the  new  ones  the  shade  of  a  Jacqueminot  rose,  the  faded  ones 
like  the  lovely  roses  which  Nell  calls  "American  beauties." 

There  they  sat,  tailor-fashion,  with  their  legs  crossed  and 
their  cloth  or  fur  caps  tilted  over  their  eyes  as  they  smoked 
(very  handsome,  bold  eyes,  some  of  them !)  and,  passing  up 
and  down,  up  and  down  in  front  of  the  row  as  if  in  review, 
with  a  musical  clatter  of  sabots,  bands  of  women,  lovely  girls, 
and  charming  little  buttons  of  children. 

Nell  and  I  admired  the  costumes  more  than  at  Marken, 
though  they're  not  as  striking,  only  innocently  pretty.  But  I 
can't  imagine  anything  more  becoming  than  the  transparent 
white  caps  that  fold  back  and  flare  out  over  the  ears  like  a 
soaring  bird's  wings.  Perhaps  it  was  partly  the  effect  of  the 
light,  but  the  young  girls  in  their  straight  dark  bodices,  with 
flowered  handkerchief-chemisettes,  full  blue  skirts  —  pieced 
with  pale-tinted  stuff  from  waist  to  hips  —  and  those  flying, 
winged  caps,  looked  angelic. 

They  walked  with  their  arms  round  each  other's  waists, 
or  else  they  knitted  with  gleaming  needles.  Quite  toddling 
creatures  had  blue  yokes  over  their  shoulders,  and  carried 
splashing  pails  of  water  as  big  as  themselves,  or  they  had 
round  tots  of  babies  tucked  under  their  arms.  But  whatever 
they  were  doing  —  men,  women,  girls,  boys,  and  babies  — 
all  stopped  doing  it  instantly  when  they  spied  Tibe.  I  don't 
believe  they  knew  he  was  a  dog;  and  though  he  has  invariably 
had  a  succes  fou  wherever  we  have  been,  I  never  saw  people 
so  mad  about  him  as  at  Volendam. 

The  Jonkheer  says  there  are  nearly  three  thousand  inhabi 
tants,  and  half  of  them  were  after  Tibe  on  the  dyke  as  we 
walked  toward  the  hotel.  The  news  of  him  seemed  to  fly,  as 


PHYLLIS    RIVERS'    POINT    OF   VIEW       245 

they  say  tidings  travel  through  the  Indian  bazaars.  Faces  ap 
peared  in  windows;  then  quaint  figures  popped  out  of  doors, 
and  Tibe  was  actually  mobbed.  A  procession  trailed  after 
him,  shouting,  laughing,  calling. 

Tibe  was  flattered  at  first,  and  preened  himself  for  admira 
tion;  but  presently  he  became  worried,  then  disgusted,  and 
ran  before  the  storm  of  voices  and  wooden  shoes.  We  were  all 
glad  to  get  him  into  the  hotel. 

Such  a  quaint  hotel,  with  incredibly  neat,  box-like  rooms, 
whose  varnished,  green  wooden  walls  you  could  use  for  mir 
rors.  I  didn't  know  that  it  was  famous,  but  it  seems  that  it  is; 
also  the  landlord  and  his  many  daughters.  Every  artist  who 
has  ever  come  to  Volendam  has  painted  a  picture  for  the  big 
room  which  you  enter  as  you  walk  in  from  the  street,  and  I 
saw  half  a  dozen  which  I  should  love  to  own. 

It  was  fun  dining  out-of-doors  on  a  big,  covered  balcony 
looking  over  the  Zuider  Zee,  and  seeing  the  horizon  populous 
with  fishing- boats.  In  the  falling  dusk  they  looked  like  the 
flitting  figures  of  tall,  graceful  ladies  moving  together  hand  in 
hand,  with  flowing  skirts;  some  in  gossiping  knots,  others 
hovering  proudly  apart  in  pairs  like  princesses. 

It  is  wonderful  how  our  chaperon  makes  friends  with 
people,  and  gets  them  to  do  as  she  likes.  If  she  were  young 
and  pretty  it  wouldn't  be  strange  —  at  least,  where  men  are 
concerned;  but  though  her  complexion  (what  one  can  see  of 
it)  looks  fresh,  if  pale,  and  she  has  no  hollows  or  wrinkles, 
her  hair  is  gray,  and  she  wears  blue  spectacles,  with  only  a 
bit  of  face  really  visible.  One  hardly  knows  what  she  does 
look  like.  Nevertheless,  the  men  of  our  party  are  her  slaves; 
and  it  is  the  same  at  hotels.  If  at  first  landlords  say  Tibe 
can't  live  in  the  house,  the  next  minute,  when  she  has  wheed 
led  a  little,  they  are  patting  his  head,  calling  him  "good  dog," 
and  telling  his  mistress  that  they  will  make  an  exception  in  his 
case. 


246  THE   CHAPERON 

The  morning  after  we  arrived  in  Volendam  I  got  up  early, 
because  Mr.  van  Buren  offered  to  show  me  the  place  if  I 
cared  to  take  a  walk.  It  was  only  half-past  eight  when  we 
strolled  out  of  the  hotel,  and  the  first  person  I  met  was  Lady 
MacNairne.  She  had  been  walking,  and  was  on  her  way  back, 
looking  like  the  Old  Woman  in  the  Shoe,  surrounded  by 
children  of  all  sizes.  She  had  made  friends  with  them,  and 
taken  their  photographs,  and  their  grown-up  sisters  had  told 
her  lots  of  things  about  Volendam. 

She  had  found  out  that  as  soon  as  the  fisherfolk's  sons 
begin  to  dress  like  boys,  they  are  given  their  buckles  and 
neck-buttons :  the  gold  or  silver  knobs  which  are  different  for 
each  fishing-village  of  Holland;  so  that,  if  a  man  is  found 
drowned,  you  can  tell  where  he  comes  from  by  his  buttons. 

She  had  learned  that  the  trousers  are  baggy,  because  in 
storms  the  men  don't  get  as  wet  as  in  tight  ones.  That  the 
women  wear  eight  petticoats,  not  only  because  it's  "the  mode," 
but  because  it's  considered  beautiful  for  a  girl  to  look  stout;  and 
besides,  it's  not  thought  modest  to  show  how  you  are  shaped. 

Another  thing  she  learned  was  that,  just  as  the  boys  must 
have  their  buckles  and  buttons  (and  ear-rings,  if  they  can  get 
them),  each  Volendam  girl,  if  she  wishes  to  be  anybody,  must 
have  a  coral  necklace  with  a  gold  cross;  several  silver  rings; 
a  silver  buckle  for  her  purse;  and  a  scent-bottle  with  a  silver 
top  and  foot.  No  girl  could  hope  to  marry  well,  Lady  Mac 
Nairne  said,  without  these  things;  and  as  the  ones  who  told 
her  had  no  rings  or  scent-bottles  in  their  collections,  she  would 
get  her  nephew  to  buy  them.  It  wouldn't  do  for  him  to  make 
the  presents  himself,  as  the  girls  were  proud,  though  their 
fathers  earned  only  five  gulden  a  week;  but  she  would  give 
them,  and  then  it  would  be  all  right.  One  of  the  girls  was  un 
happy,  as  she  was  in  love  with  a  young  fisherman,  and  they 
were  too  poor  to  marry,  so  she  expected  to  gc  to  Rotterdam 
as  a  nursemaid. 


PHYLLIS   RIVERS'   POINT   OF   VIEW       247 

"It  seems,"  said  Lady  MacNairne,  "that  Volendam  girls 
are  in  demand  all  over  Holland,  as  nurses;  they're  so  good 
to  children  and  animals.  But  this  one  won't  have  to  go,  for 
dear  Ronny  must  supply  her  dot." 

"Have  you  asked  him  ?"  I  inquired. 

She  laughed.  "No,"  said  she.  "He'll  do  it,  though,  to  please 
me,  I  know." 

These  things  were  not  all  she  had  found  out.  She  knew 
that  Volendam  had  first  been  made  famous  twenty  or  thirty 
years  ago  by  an  artist  named  Clausen,  who  came  by  accident 
and  went  away  to  tell  all  his  friends.  She  knew  how  the  Hotel 
Spaander  had  been  started  to  please  the  artists,  and  how  it 
had  grown  year  by  year;  and  all  the  things  that  people  told 
her  she  had  written  in  a  note-book  which  she  wears  dangling 
from  a  chatelaine.  It  does  seem  odd  for  a  Scotswoman,  and 
one  of  her  rank,  to  be  so  keen  about  every  detail  of  travel, 
that  she  must  scribble  it  down  in  a  book,  in  a  frantic  hurry. 
But  then,  many  things  about  Lady  MacNairne  are  odd. 

The  sun  was  blazing  that  morning,  but  a  wind  had  come 
up  in  the  night,  and  beaten  the  waves  into  froth.  The  dark 
sea-line  stretched  unevenly  along  the  horizon,  and  there  were 
no  fishing-boats  to  be  seen.  All  were  snugly  nestled  in  harbor, 
with  their  gay  pennants  just  visible  over  the  pointed  roofs  of 
the  houses;  and  we  had  an  exciting  breakfast  on  the  balcony, 
because,  though  it  wasn't  cold,  the  tablecloths  and  napkins 
flapped  wildly  in  the  wind,  like  big  white  rings  of  frightened 
swans. 

Jonkheer  Brederode  had  planned  to  go  northward,  skirting/ 
the  coast  to  see  two  more  Dead  Cities  of  the  Zuider  Zee, 
Hoorn  and  Enkhuisen,  and  cut  across  the  sea  to  Stavoren  on 
the  other  side,  to  enter  the  Frisian  Meers.  But  now  he  refused 
to  take  us  that  way.  The  men  might  go,  if  they  liked,  he  said, 
and  there  really  wasn't  much  danger;  but  in  such  rough 
weather  he  couldn't  allow  women  to  run  the  risk  in  "Lorelei." 


£48  THE   CHAPERON 

"But  it  wouldn't  be  in  *  Lorelei, '  Lady  MacNairne  put  in. 
'  Lorelei '  has  ceased  to  exist." 

Nell  grew  pink  and  I  think  I  grew  pale.  It  was  an  awful 
shock  to  hear  her  speak  so  calmly  about  the  loss  of  our  dear 
boat,  of  which  we  have  grown  so  fond. 

"Ceased  to  exist!"  I  repeated,  cold  all  over.  "Has  she  gone 
under?" 

"Only  under  a  coat  of  paint,"  said  Mr.  Starr,  hurriedly. 
"You  know,  Miss  Van  Buren  consented  to  humor  my  aunt, 
who  thought  the  name  unlucky,  by  rechristening  the  boat 
Mascotte,'  so  I  did  it  myself,  this  morning,  the  first  thing,  be 
fore  there  were  many  people  about  to  get  in  my  way." 

"I'd  forgotten,"  said  Nell.  "But  if  she's  'Mascotte'  now, 
isn't  that  a  sign  she  could  take  us  safely  through  the  sea  ? 
They're  only  miniature  waves." 

"You  wouldn't  think  so  if  you  were  in  their  midst  in  a 
motor-boat,"  said  the  Jonkheer. 

"I'm  ready  to  try,"  Nell  answered. 

"But  I'm  not  ready  to  let  you,"  he  said,  with  one  of  his 
nice  smiles. 

However,  this  didn't  conciliate  Nell.  In  an  instant  she 
bristled  up,  as  she  used  to  with  him,  before  Amsterdam. 

"It's  my  boat,"  she  said. 

"But  I'm  the  boat's  skipper.  The  skipper  must  act  accord 
ing  to  his  judgment.  Joking  apart  though  - 

"I'm  not  joking.  If  men  can  go,  why  can't  women  ?  We're 
not  afraid.  It  would  be  fun." 

"Not  for  the  men,  if  they  had  women  to  think  of.  You  see, 
the  boat  is  top-heavy,  owing  to  the  cabin  superstructure,  and 
it  wouldn't  be  impossible  for  her  to  turn  turtle  in  a  heavy  sea. 
Besides,  rough  waves  might  break  the  cabin  windows,  and  if 
she  began  to  take  in  water  in  that  way,  we  should  be  done,  for 
no  bailing  could  help  us.  Do  you  still  want  to  make  the  trip, 
Miss  Van  Buren  ?" 


PHYLLIS    RIVERS'    POINT    OF    VIEW        249 

"I  do,"  Nell  insisted.  "Because  I  don't  believe  those  things 
will  happen." 

"Neither  do  I,  or  I  shouldn't  care  to  risk  your  boat.  But 
there's  a  chance." 

"I  shouldn't  dream  of  venturing,"  said  Lady  MacNairne, 
"and  I'm  sure  Phyllis  wouldn't  go  without  her  chaperon, 
would  you,  dear  ?" 

"No,"  I  answered;  and  that  mercifully  settled  it  for  Nell, 
as  she  couldn't  take  a  trip  alone  with  the  men. 

"In  any  case,  it's  pleasanter  to  drive  from  here  to  Hoorn 
and  Enkhuisen,"  went  on  the  Jonkheer,  "and  the  only  real 
reason  for  sticking  to  the  boat  even  in  fine  weather  would  have 
been  that  you  came  to  'do'  Holland  in  a  motor-boat,  and 
wanted  to  be  true  to  your  principles.  The  coast  is  flat  and 
low%  and  you'd  have  seen  nothing  except  a  line  of  land  which 
would  have  looked  uninteresting  across  the  water,  whereas  in 
my  car  — 

"But  your  car  isn't  here,"  objected  Nell. 

"It  may  be,  any  minute  now.  I've  been  expecting  it  for 
the  last  hour.  I  wasn't  trusting  entirely  to  luck,  when  we  came; 
and  my  chauffeur  had  orders  to  hold  himself  in  readiness  for 
a  telegram.  Last  night,  as  soon  as  I  saw  the  wind  getting  up, 
I  wired  him  in  Amsterdam,  where  he  was  waiting,  to  start  as 
soon  as  it  was  light." 

"You're  a  wonderful  fellow,"  said  Mr.  van  Buren,  and  I 
complimented  him  too;  but  Nell  didn't  speak. 

A  few  minutes  later  we  heard  the  whirr  of  a  motor,  and  the 
buzz  of  excited  voices.  We  had  just  finished  breakfast,  so  we 
rushed  from  the  balcony  at  the  back  of  the  house,  through  the 
big  room  of  the  pictures,  to  the  front  door;  and  there  was 
Jonkheer  Brederode's  car  (on  the  dyke,  which  is  the  only  road), 
with  the  smart  little  chauffeur  smiling  and  touching  his  cap  to 
his  master,  amid  a  swarm  of  girls  and  boys. 

By-and-by  it  was  decided  that  only  Jonkheer  Brederode 


250  THE   CHAPERON 

and  Hendrik  (with  Toon  on  the  barge)  should  test  the  motor- 
boat's  seaworthy  qualities,  while  Mr.  van  Buren  and  Mr.  Starr 
stopped  with  us.  This  was  the  Jonkheer 's  idea.  He  would 
prefer  it,  he  said,  as  the  fewer  there  were  on  "Lorelei"  —  alias 
"Mascotte"  —  the  better.  And  Mr.  van  Buren  ought  to  be  with 
us,  to  tell  us  about  places. 

I  think  all  the  men  would  have  liked  the  adventure,  but 
they  couldn't  say  that  they  didn't  want  to  be  of  our  party,  and 
Lady  MacNairne  actually  begged  her  nephew  to  come  in  the 
motor.  She  didn't  confess  that  she  was  afraid  for  him.  The 
reason  she  gave  was  that  she  couldn't  take  care  of  Tibe  in  the 
car  without  his  help.  I  was  sure  she  was  anxious.  Though  I 
couldn't  help  being  glad  for  his  family's  sake  that  Mr.  van 
Buren  was  safe  (as  safe  as  any  one  can  be  in  a  motor-car)  it  did 
seem  sad  that  Jonkheer  Brederode  was  left  to  brave  the  danger 
without  his  friends. 

All  Lady  MacNairne 's  thought  was  for  her  nephew,  and  so 
I  felt  it  would  be  only  kind  to  show  the  Jonkheer  that  some  one 
cared  about  him.  I  begged  him  to  let  Hendrik  manage  the 
boat  alone,  for  I  said  we  should  all  be  so  worried,  that  it  would 
spoil  our  drive.  I  supposed  Nell  would  join  with  me,  as  Lady 
MacNairne  did,  if  only  enough  for  civility,  but  she  wouldn't 
say  a  word.  However,  though  she  pretended  to  be  more  in 
terested  in  examining  the  car  than  listening  to  our  conversa 
tion,  she  was  pale,  with  the  air  of  having  a  headache. 

Jonkheer  Brederode  was  pleased,  I  think,  to  feel  that  some 
one  took  an  interest  in  him;  but  he  made  light  of  the  danger, 
and  saw  us  off  so  merrily  that  I  forgot  to  worry. 

Mr.  van  Buren  didn't  want  to  drive;  Mr.  Starr  doesn't 
know  how;  and  as  Nell  said  she  would  like  to  sit  in  front  with 
the  chauffeur,  Lady  MacNairne  and  I  had  the  two  men  in  the 
tonneau  with  us. 

We  were  gay;  but  Nell  didn't  turn  round  once  to  join  in 
our  talk.  She  sat  there  beside  the  chauffeur,  as  glum  as  if  she 


PHYLLIS    RIVERS'    POINT   OF   VIEW       251 

had  lost  her  last  friend.  Perhaps  she  was  alarmed  for  her  boat, 
as  she  doesn't  care  about  the  Jonkheer. 

Now  we  began  to  see  what  a  Dutch  dyke  really  is,  and  I 
could  imagine  men  riding  furiously  along  the  high,  narrow 
road,  carrying  the  news  to  village  after  village  that  the  water 
was  rising. 

There  was  just  room  on  top  for  anything  we  might  meet  to 
pass;  but  the  chauffeur  drove  slowly,  and  Mr.  van  Buren  said 
there  was  no  danger,  so  I  wasn't  afraid.  There  was  a  sense  of 
protection  in  sitting  next  to  him,  he  is  so  big  and  dependable. 
I  felt  he  would  not  let  anything  hurt  me;  and  once  in  a  while 
he  looked  at  me  with  a  very  nice  look.  I  suppose  he  has  even 
nicer  ones  for  Freule  Menela,  though,  when  they  are  alone 
together.  It  is  a  pity  her  manner  is  so  much  against  her. 

Although  I  wasn't  terrified,  it  was  an  exciting  drive,  running 
along  on  the  high  dyke  (I  could  hardly  believe  it  when  Mr.  van 
Buren  said  there  were  bigger  ones  in  Zeeland),  with  the 
Zuider  Zee  on  one  side  and  the  wide  green  reaches  of  Jonkheer 
Brederode's  Hollow  Land  on  the  other. 

I  shivered  to  think  what  would  happen  if  the  hungry  sea, 
forever  gnawing  at  the  granite  pile,  were  to  break  it  down  and 
pour  over  the  low-lying  land.  Many  times  in  the  past  such 
awful  things  happened ;  what  if  to-day  were  the  day  for  it  to 
happen  again  ? 

I  asked  Mr.  van  Buren  if  he  didn't  wake  up  sometimes  in 
the  night  with  an  attack  of  the  horrors ;  but  he  seemed  anxious 
to  soothe  me,  as  if  he  didn'  t  want  his  country  spoiled  for  me 
by  fears. 

"The  corps  of  engineers  who  look  after  the  coast  defenses 
is  the  best  in  the  world,"  he  said. 

Edam  was  our  first  town;  and  it  was  odd  to  see  it,  after 
nibbling  its  cheeses  more  or  less  all  one's  life,  and  never  think 
ing  of  the  place  they  came  from.  The  funniest  thing  was  that 
it  smelled  of  cheese  —  a  delicious  smell  that  seemed  a  part  of 


THE   CHAPERON 

the  town's  tranquillity,  just  as  the  perfume  seems  part  of  a 
flower.  In  most  of  the  pretty  old  houses  with  their  glittering 
ornamental  tiles,  there  was  some  sign  of  cheese-making ;  and 
all  the  people  of  Edam  must  have  been  busy  making  it,  as  we 
saw  only  two  or  three. 

We  stopped  in  a  large  public  square,  with  a  pattern  in  the 
colored  pavement,  like  carpet,  and  the  place  was  so  quiet  that 
the  sound  of  the  silence  droned  in  our  ears. 

"And  this,"  said  Mr.  van  Buren,  "was  once  one  of  the 
proudest  cities  of  the  Zuider  Zee !" 

"My  goodness!"  exclaimed  Lady  MacNairne,  "is  this  little 
old  thing  another  of  the  Dead  Cities  ?  Well,  I'm  sure  it  couldn't 
have  been  half  as  nice  when  it  was  alive. "  And  down  some 
thing  went  in  her  note-book. 

We  drove  by  a  park,  a  noble  church,  and  the  loveliest 
cemetery  I  ever  saw,  not  at  all  sad.  I  could  not  think  of  the 
dead  there,  but  only  of  children  playing  and  lovers  strolling 
under  the  trees. 

As  soon  as  we  were  outside  Edam  we  began  to  pass  wind 
mills  quite  different  from  any  we  had  seen  before.  They  were 
just  like  stout  Dutch  ladies,  smartly  dressed  in  green,  with 
coats  and  bonnets  of  gray  thatch  and  greenish  veils  over  their 
faces,  half  hiding  the  big  eyes  which  gazed  alway  toward  the 
dyke  that  imprisons  the  Zuider  Zee. 

We  had  been  off  the  dyke  and  skimming  along  an  ordinary 
Dutch  road  for  a  while;  but  presently  we  swerved  toward 
the  right  and  were  again  on  a  dyke  sloping  toward  the  sea. 
Sailing  along  its  level  top  we  could  see  far  off  the  embowered 
roofs  and  spires  of  a  town  which  Mr.  van  Buren  said  was  the 
once  powerful  city  of  Hoorn. 

"Isn't  there  a  Cape  somewhere  named  after  it  ?"  asked 
Lady  MacNairne  gaily;  and  Mr.  van  Buren  (answering  that 
William  Schouten,  the  sailor  who  discovered  the  Cape,  named 
it  after  his  native  town)  looked  surprised  at  her  ignorance. 


PHYLLIS   RIVERS*   POINT   OF   VIEW      253 

She  doesn't  seem  to  know  much  about  history,  but  she  will 
know  a  great  deal  about  Holland  before  we  finish  this  trip  if 
she  goes  on  as  she  is  going  now. 

In  ten  minutes  we  were  in  the  suburbs;  in  five  more  we 
were  in  the  Dead  City  itself;  but  it  had  the  air  of  having  been 
resurrected  and  being  delighted  to  find  itself  alive  again.  We 
passed  row  upon  row  of  wonderful  carts,  shaped  like  the  cars 
of  classical  goddesses,  though  no  self-respecting  goddess  would 
have  her  car  painted  green  outside  and  blue  or  scarlet  within. 

"By  Jove,  now  I  know  why  Brederode  was  so  keen  on  our 
getting  off  early  and  not  waiting  at  Volendam  till  to-morrow 
for  the  wind  to  die!"  exclaimed  Mr.  van  Buren.  "What  a 
fellow  he  is  to  think  of  everything !  This  is  the  one  and  only 
time  to  find  Hoorn  at  its  best  —  market-day.  And  now  you 
will  see  some  nice  things. " 

He  had  the  chauffeur  slow  down  the  car  in  a  fascinating 
street,  with  quaint  houses  leaning  back  or  sidewise,  and  bear 
ing  themselves  as  they  pleased. 

"Which  way  for  the  cheese  market  ?"  Mr.  van  Buren  asked 
an  old  man  with  a  wreath  of  white  fur  under  his  chin. 

He  asked  in  Dutch,  but  so  many  Dutch  words  sound  like 
caricatures  of  English  ones  that  I  begin  to  understand  now. 
Besides,  I  have  bought  a  grammar  and  study  it  in  the  eve 
nings.  This  pleased  Mr.  van  Buren  when  I  told  him,  and  he 
says  I  have  made  splendid  progress.  I've  got  as  far  as  "I  love, 
you  love,  he  loves,"  and  so  on.  I  think  Dutch  an  extremely 
interesting  language. 

The  old  man  told  us  which  way  to  go,  and  turning  up  a 
street  we  should  never  have  thought  of,  we  came  out  in  a  huge 
market-place  presided  over  by  a  statue  of  Coen,  a  man  who 
founded  the  Dutch  dominion  in  the  West  Indies,  or  something 
which  Mr.  van  Buren  thought  important. 

WTe  have  often  wondered  where  the  people  of  the  towns 
hide  themselves;  but  there  was  no  such  puzzle  in  Hoorn. 


254  THE   CHAPERON 

The  market-place  looked  as  if  half  the  population  of  North 
Holland  might  be  there.  The  whole  of  the  square  was  covered 
with  cheeses,  large  shiny  cheeses,  yellow  as  monstrous  oranges. 
They  glittered  so  radiantly  in  the  sunlight  that  you  felt  they 
might  at  any  instant  burst  out  into  a  flame.  Between  the  great 
glowing  mounds  little  paths  had  been  left,  and  along  these 
paths  walked  lines  of  solemn  men  inspecting  the  burning 
globes  and  bargaining  with  their  possessors ;  while  outside  the 
huge,  cheese-paved  space  there  was  a  moving  crowd,  gay  and 
shifting  as  the  figures  made  by  bits  of  colored  glass  in  a  kalei 
doscope. 

We  expected  to  create  a  sensation  with  the  motor,  but  the 
cheeses  were  more  interesting,  and  nobody  had  time  for  more 
than  a  glance  at  us.  Suddenly,  as  we  sat  gazing  at  the  scene, 
affairs  in  the  market-place  came  to  some  kind  of  crisis.  A 
stream  of  men  appeared,  dressed  in  spotless  white  from  head 
to  foot,  and  wearing  varnished,  hard  straw  hats  of  different 
colors.  Soon,  we  saw  it  was  the  hats  which  determined  every 
thing.  The  blue-hatted  men  walked  together;  the  red  hats 
formed  another  party;  the  yellow  hats  a  third;  and  so  on. 
Each  corps  carried  large  yet  shallow  trays  suspended  from 
their  shoulders  —  two  men  to  a  tray  —  and  falling  upon  the 
piles  of  cheeses  they  gathered  them  up  with  incredible  quick 
ness.  Then,  when  the  trays  were  loaded  with  a  pyramid  of 
cheeses,  off  rushed  the  men  to  a  wonderful  Weigh  House  which 
Mr.  van  Buren  says  is  famous  throughout  all  North  Holland. 
Inside  were  many  men,  busy  as  bees,  weighing  cheeses  with 
enormous  scales.  Down  dropped  the  trays;  the  weight  was 
taken,  and  away  darted  the  men  bearing  the  yellow  treasures 
to  some  neighboring  warehouse. 

We  watched  the  weighing  for  a  long  time,  until  we  were  so 
hungry  that  we  could  feel  no  enthusiasm  for  anything  except 
lunch.  But  as  we  drove  through  crowded  streets  to  a  hotel, 
it  was  interesting  to  pass  warehouses  where  cheeses  were  being 


men   in^-Hhuj  Lnrnhnj  ,,/„/„*,  and 


PHYLLIS   RIVERS'   POINT   OF   VIEW       255 

stored.  The  porters  with  the  bright  hats  (worn  to  denote  their 
ancient  guilds)  were  standing  on  the  pavement  tossing  up 
cheeses,  like  conjurors  keeping  a  lot  of  oranges  in  the  air. 
Men  above,  standing  in  open  lofts,  caught  the  golden  balls  as 
they  flew  up,  and  stored  them  among  crowds  of  others  that 
seemed  to  illuminate  the  dim  background  like  half -extinguish 
ed  lanterns  glowing  in  the  dark. 

We  lunched  at  an  old-fashioned  hotel  with  enormous  rooms; 
and  then,  as  we  had  time,  we  wound  through  the  chief  streets 
of  the  Dead  City,  stopping  now  and  then  to  study  bas-reliefs 
on  ancient  houses,  telling  of  stirring  events  when  the  name  of 
Hoorn  sounded  loud  in  the  world. 

There  was  one  stone  picture  of  many  old  ships  in  commo 
tion  among  impossible  waves,  and  the  description  was  all  in 
one  word  --"Bossuzeeslag."  It  seemed  very  impressive  to  sit 
staring  up  at  it  while  Mr.  van  Buren  told  how  "we"  whipped 
the  Spanishship  "Inquisition"  after  thirty  hours'  fighting  on  the 
sand-bank,  and  all  the  people  of  Hoorn  assembled  to  look  on. 

After  seeing  the  house  where  Graaf  Bossu  was  kept  prisoner 
our  interest  in  the  Hoorn  of  long  ago  was  kindled  to  a  blaze. 
Mr.  van  Buren  proposed  taking  us  to  the  Museum,  so  we 
all  went,  except  poor  Mr.  Starr,  who  sat  in  front  of  the  hand 
some  building  in  the  motor-car,  on  "dog  duty,"  as  he  calls  it. 

I  liked  the  reproduction  of  an  old  Dutch  inn,  and  the  plans 
of  the  Dead  Cities  as  they  used  to  be;  but  the  paintings  of 
determined-looking  burgomasters  in  black  with  ruffles  and 
conical  hats,  were  pathetic.  The  men  in  their  short  frilled 
trousers  and  high  boots,  thought  themselves  so  important, 
poor  dears,  with  their  piteous  forefingers  proudly  pointing  to 
maps  and  specifications,  that  it  was  sad  to  see  them  still  doing 
it  when  all  their  plans  had  come  to  nothing  long  ago.  We 
admired  Hoorn  as  it  is,  but  it  would  break  their  hearts  if  they 
could  see  it,  given  up  to  cheese,  and  only  of  importance  in  the 
cheese  world. 


256  THE    CHAPERON 

We  were  not  in  the  Museum  long,  but  Mr.  Starr  had 
suffered  tortures  meanwhile,  and  looked  ten  years  older  when 
we  came  out.  Tibe  had  been  asleep  on  the  floor  of  the  tonneau 
while  we  were  in  the  market-place  before  lunch,  so  nobody 
had  seen  him.  But,  deserted  by  his  mistress,  he  sat  up  in  the 
car  to  look  for  her,  and  the  passers-by  caught  sight  of  him. 
Word  went  round  that  there  was  a  strange  monster,  a  cross 
between  a  monkey  and  a  goblin,  sitting  in  an  automobile,  and 
all  the  people  of  Hoorn  poured  into  the  street  to  see  the  show, 
just  as  they  had  poured  to  the  harbor  more  than  three  hundred 
years  ago  when  the  "zeelsag"  was  going  on. 

We  came  out  to  find  the  car  almost  lost  to  sight  in  the 
crush;  but  Mr.  van  Buren,  who  is  like  a  great,  handsome 
Viking,  pushed  the  people  aside,  and  said  things  to  them  in 
Dutch  which  made  some  laugh  and  others  grumble. 

To  escape,  we  drove  out  of  the  town  into  toy-like  suburbs, 
with  little  streets,  and  tiny  houses  on  dykes,  each  one  with  its 
drawbridge  across  the  stream  running  on  either  side  a  dyke- 
road.  And  now  we  seemed  to  be  in  the  heart  of  toyland.  It 
was  like  a  place  built  by  Santa  Claus,  to  come  to  at  Christmas 
time,  and  choose  presents  to  fill  his  pack. 

Aalsmeer  and  Broek-in-Waterland,  which  we  had  thought 
toy-like,  were  grown-up  villages  for  grown-up  people  compared 
to  this  toy- world. 

On  we  went,  penetrating  further  into  the  doll-country, 
instead  of  running  out  of  it.  The  brown,  yellow,  green,  and 
red  carts,  ornamented  with  festoons  of  flowers  in  carved  wood, 
which  were  returning  from  market,  were  the  only  grown-up 
things  we  saw  —  except  the  trees,  and  they  seemed  abnor 
mally  tall  by  way  of  contrast. 

Mile  after  mile,  the  road  to  Enkhuisen  led  on  between  two 
lines  of  dolls'  houses  and  gardens.  Some  must  have  been 
meant  for  very  large  dolls,  but  that  made  no  difference  in  the 
toy  effect,  as  the  great  farmhouses,  apportioned  off  half  for 


PHYLLIS    RIVERS'    POINT   OF   VIEW        257 

toy  animals,  half  for  farmer-dolls,  were  just  as  fantastic  in 
design  and  decoration  as  the  tiny  ones. 

Backgrounds  of  meadows,  canals,  and  windmills,  I  suppose 
there  must  have  been,  as  every  picture  has  to  have  its  back 
ground;  but  backgrounds  are  seldom  obtrusive  in  Holland,  as 
Mr.  Starr  says;  and  here  the  two  lines  of  toy  dwellings  were 
so  astonishing  that  we  noted  nothing  else. 

For  the  whole  ten  miles  of  the  drive  we  were  playing  dolls. 
The  long,  straight  string  of  houses  was  knotted  now  and  then 
into  the  semblance  of  a  village,  but  never  was  the  string  broken 
between  Hoorn  and  Enkhuisen,  and  though  we  saw  so  many, 
each  new  doll-house  made  us  laugh  as  if  it  were  the  first. 

I  tried  not  to  laugh  at  the  beginning,  lest  it  might  hurt  Mr. 
van  Buren's  feelings;  but  he  didn't  mind,  and  pointed  out  the 
funniest  front  doors,  crusted  with  colored  flowers,  like  the 
icing  on  a  child's  birthday  cake  sprinkled  with  "hundreds  of 
thousands."  After  that,  I  laughed  as  much  as  I  liked  at 
everything,  though  I  was  sure  the  people  who  had  built  the 
houses  took  them  quite  seriously,  and  admired  them  beyond 
words.  You  felt  that  each  man  had  put  his  whole  soul  into  the 
scheme  of  his  house,  trying  to  outdo  his  neighbors  in  color  or 
originality. 

There  would  be  a  house  with  a  red-brick  front  for  the 
lower  story,  and  the  upper  one,  including  gables,  done  in  wood 
painted  pea-green.  Then  the  sides  of  the  house  would  be  in 
green  and  white  stripes,  the  window-frames  sky-blue,  the  tiny 
sparkling  panes  twinkling  out  like  diamonds  set  in  turquoises. 
But  these  would  not  be  the  only  colors  to  dazzle  your  eyes  as 
you  flashed  through  the  tall  Gothic  archway  of  trees  darkening 
the  road.  There  would  be  a  three-foot  deep  band  of  ultra 
marine  distemper  running  all  round  a  house,  the  trunks  of  the 
trees  and  the  fence  would  be  brilliantly  blue,  and  despite  a 
dash  of  scarlet  here  and  there,  as  you  approached  you  had  the 
impression  of  coming  to  a  lake  of  azure  water. 


258  THE  CHAPERON     , 

Further  on  would  be  another  house,  yellow  and  scarlet  and 
white,  having  a  door  like  a  mosaic  with  raised  patterns  of 
flowers  in  pink,  blue,  and  purple  on  a  background  of  gold  or 
black;  and  the  high,  pointed  roof,  half  thatched,  half  covered 
with  glittering  black  tiles. 

These  roofs  made  the  houses  look  as  if  they  had  bald, 
shiny  foreheads,  with  thick  hair  on  top,  and  gave  the  windows 
a  curiously  wise  expression. 

But  if  the  homesteads  (with  their  additions  for  families 
of  horses  and  cows)  were  extraordinary,  they  were  common 
place  compared  with  the  chicken  or  pigeon-houses,  shaped  like 
chateaux,  or  Chinese  pagodas,  wreathed  with  flowers. 

When  at  last  we  drove  under  a  gateway  across  the  road, 
and  the  color  was  suddenly  extinguished  as  if  a  show  of  fire 
works  were  over,  we  all  felt  as  though  we  had  come  back  to  the 
everyday  world  after  an  excursion  into  elfland. 

It  was  the  entrance  to  Enkhuisen,  the  last  of  the  Dead 
Cities  which  we  were  to  visit  —  a  strange,  sad  old  town,  with  a 
charming  park,  churches  three  times  too  big  for  it,  and 
beautiful  seventeenth-century  houses,  small  but  perfect  as 
cameos.  We  drove  to  the  harbor,  not  only  to  see  the  wonder 
ful  humpbacked  Dromedary  Tower,  but  to  find  out  whether 
there  were  any  news  of  our  boat,  before  going  to  the  hotel. 

A  stiff  wind  was  blowing;  the  sea  was  gray,  and  waves 
tossed  angrily  against  the  breakwater. 

Nothing  had  been  heard  of  "Lorelei-Mascotte,"  and  though 
we  left  the  car  and  walked  to  the  outer  harbor,  straining  our 
eyes  in  the  direction  whence  she  should  come,  no  craft  re 
sembling  her  was  in  sight. 

The  beauty  of  the  day  had  died ;  sky  and  water  were  dull 
as  lead,  and  Nell's  face,  as  she  stood  gazing  out  to  sea,  looked 
pallid  in  the  bleak  light. 

Suddenly  we  felt  depressed,  though  Mr.  van  Buren  said  it 
was  hardly  time  to  expect  news.  As  we  lingered,  the  most 


PHYLLIS    RIVERS'    POINT   OP   VIEW       259 

exquisite  music  began  to  fall  over  our  heads,  apparently  from 
the  sky,  like  a  shower  of  jewels. 

"The  chimes  of  the  Dromedary,"  said  Mr.  van  Buren, 
looking  up  at  the  strong,  dark  tower  looming  above  us.  Our 
eyes  followed  his,  and  the  music  sprayed  over  us  in  a  lovely 
fountain.  Had  the  bells  been  all  of  silver,  rung  by  fairies,  the 
notes  could  not  have  been  sweeter.  In  itself  the  air  was  not 
sad,  yet  it  pierced  to  the  heart;  and  as  the  chimes  played  I 
found  that  I  was  a  great  deal  more  anxious  about  Jonkheer 
Bred  erode  than  I  had  thought.  The  tears  came  to  my  eyes, 
and  when  Lady  MacNairne  asked  what  was  the  matter,  I  said 
impulsively  that  I  couldn't  help  being  frightened  for  our 
friend,  doing  his  self-imposed  duty  so  bravely  by  Nell's  boat. 

Going  back  to  the  hotel,  we  were  all  miserable.  Even  Mr. 
van  Buren  seemed  wretched,  though  I  can't  think  why,  as 
he  said  he  was  not  anxious  about  the  Jonkheer.  And  Lady 
MacNairne  forgot  to  put  it  down  in  her  note- book  when 
some  one  told  her  that  Enkhuisen  was  the  birthplace  of  Paul 
Potter. 


XXIII 

I    SHALL  never  forget  that  night  at  Enkhuisen,  or  the 
hotel. 
Mr.  Starr  said  it  was  no  wonder  Cities  of  the  Zuider 
Zee  died,  if  they  were  brought  up  on  hotels  like  that. 

Ours,  apparently,  had  no  one  to  attend  to  it,  except  one 
frightened  rabbit  of  a  boy,  who  appeared  to  be  manager,  hall 
porter,  waiter,  boots,  and  chambermaid  in  one;  but  when  we 
had  scrambled  up  a  ladder-like  stairway  —  it  was  almost  as 
difficult  as  climbing  a  greased  pole  —  we  found  decent  rooms, 
and  after  that,  things  we  wanted  came  by  some  mysterious 
means,  we  knew  not  how. 

It  was  an  adventure  sliding  down  to  dinner.  Tibe  fell  from 
top  to  bottom,  into  a  kind  of  black  well,  and  upset  Lady 
MacNairne  completely.  She  said  she  hated  Enkhuisen,  and 
she  thought  it  a  dispensation  of  Providence  that  the  sand  had 
come  and  silted  it  up. 

We  had  quite  good  things  for  dinner,  but  we  ate  in  a  dining- 
room  with  no  fresh  air,  because  the  commercial  travelers  who 
sat  at  the  same  table,  with  napkins  tucked  under  their  chins, 
refused  to  have  the  windows  open.  Mr.  van  Buren  wanted  to 
defy  them,  but  his  chin  looked  so  square,  and  the  commercial 
travelers'  eyes  got  so  prominent,  that  I  begged  to  have  the 
windows  left  as  they  were. 

There  are  churches  to  see  in  Enkhuisen,  and  a  beautiful 
choir  screen,  but  we  hadn't  the  heart  to  visit  them.  We  said 
perhaps  we  would  go  to-morrow,  and  added  in  our  minds,  "if 
the  boat  is  safely  in." 

The  Rabbit  hardly  knew  what  we  meant  when  we  asked  for 

260 


PHYLLIS   RIVERS'   POINT   OF  VIEW       261 

a  private  sitting-room,  and  evidently  thought  it  far  from  a 
proper  request. 

To  add  to  our  melancholy,  a  thunder-storm  came  up  after 
dinner,  and  lightning  looped  like  coils  of  silver  ribbon  across 
the  sky  and  back  again,  while  thunder  deadened  the  chimes  of 
the  Dromedary.  Still  there  was  no  news,  and  at  last  Mr.  van 
Buren  went  out  in  torrents  of  rain  to  the  harbor. 

We  could  not  bear  to  sit  in  the  dining-room  where  the 
commercial  travelers  —  in  carpet  slippers  —  were  smoking 
and  discussing  Dutch  politics,  so  we  clambered  up  the  greased 
pole  to  Lady  MacNairne's  room,  and  talked  about  Philip  the 
Second,  and  tortures,  while  Tibe  growled  at  the  thunder,  and 
looked  for  it  under  furniture  and  in  corners. 

Nell  was  in  such  a  black  mood  that  she  would  have  liked 
Philip  to  be  tortured  through  all  eternity,  because  of  the 
horrible  suffering  he  inflicted  on  the  people  of  Holland ;  but  I 
said  the  worst  punishment  would  be  for  his  soul  to  have  been 
purified  at  death,  that  he  might  suddenly  realize  the  fiendish- 
ness  of  his  own  crimes,  see  himself  as  he  really  was,  and  go  on 
repenting  throughout  endless  years. 

It  was  not  an  enlivening  conversation,  and  in  the  midst 
Mr.  van  Buren  came  to  say  that  there  were  no  tidings  of 
Jonkheer  Brederode  and  the  boat. 

Then  Nell  jumped  up,  very  white,  with  shining  eyes. 
"Can't  we  do  something  ?"  she  asked. 

Her  cousin  shook  his  head.  "What  is  there  we  can  do? 
Nothing !  We  must  wait  and  hope  that  all  is  well. " 

"Are  you  anxious  now  ?"  asked  Lady  MacNairne. 

"A  little,"  he  admitted. 

"I  don't  know  how  to  bear  it,"  exclaimed  Nell,  with  a  choke 
in  her  voice. 

I  longed  to  comfort  her;  but  her  wretchedness  seemed  only 
to  harden  her  cousin's  heart. 

He  looked  at  her  angrily.  "It  is  late  for  you  to  worry,"  he 


THE   CHAPERON 

reproached  her.  "If  you  had  shown  concern  for  Rudolph's 
safety  this  morning  it  would  have  been  gracious;  but " 

"Don't!"  she  said. 

Just  the  one  word,  and  not  crossly,  but  in  such  a  voice  of 
appeal  that  he  didn't  finish  his  sentence. 

We  sat  about  awkwardly,  and  tried  to  speak  of  other  things, 
but  the  talk  would  drift  to  our  fears  for  the  boat.  Nell  did 
not  join  in.  She  sat  by  the  window,  looking  out  and  listening 
to  the  rain  and  wind,  which  made  a  sound  like  the  purring 
of  a  great  cat. 

Ten  o'clock  came,  and  Lady  MacNairne  proposed  that,  as 
we  could  do  nothing,  we  women  should  go  to  bed. 

Then  Nell  spoke.  "No,"  she  said.  "You  and  Phil  can  do 
as  you  like,  and  Cousin  Robert  and  Mr.  Starr;  but  I  shall 
sit  up." 

Of  course  I  told  her  I  would  sit  up,  too;  and  as  Mr.  van 
Buren  said  the  commercial  travelers  had  left  the  dining-room, 
he  and  Mr.  Starr  and  Nell  and  I  bade  Lady  MacNairne  good 
night,  and  went  down. 

The  unfortunate  Rabbit  was  in  the  act  of  putting  out  the 
light,  but  he  was  obliged  to  leave  it  for  us,  a  necessity  which 
distressed  him. 

By-and-by  it  was  eleven,  and  the  hotel  was  as  silent  as  a 
hotel  in  a  Dead  City  ought  to  be.  We  talked  spasmodically. 
Sometimes  we  were  still  for  many  minutes,  listening  for 
sounds  outside;  and  we  could  hear  the  scampering  of  mice 
behind  the  walls. 

"I  can't  stand  this,"  said  Nell.  "I'm  going  to  the  harbor." 

"I  will  take  you,"  replied  Mr.  van  Buren. 

"No,  thank  you,"  said  Nell.  "I'd  rather  you  stopped  with 
Phil.  She  has  a  cold,  and  mustn't  get  wet." 

"May  I  go  ? "  asked  Mr.  Starr. 

"Yes,"  she  said. 

So  they  stole  away  through  the  sleeping  house,  and  presently 


PHYLLIS    RIVERS'    POINT   OF   VIEW       263 

we  heard  the  front  door  close.  Mr.  van  Buren  and  I  were 
alone  together. 

He  was  good  about  cheering  me  up,  saying  he  had  too 
much  faith  in  his  friend's  courage  and  skill  as  a  yachtsman  to 
be  very  anxious,  though  the  delay  was  odd. 

Then,  suddenly  he  broke  out  with  a  strange  question. 

"Would  it  hurt  you  if  anything  should  happen  to  Rudolph 
Brederode  ?" 

I  was  so  surprised  that  I  could  hardly  answer  at  first.  Then 
I  said  that  of  course  it  would  hurt  me,  for  I  liked  and  ad 
mired  the  Jonkheer,  and  considered  him  my  friend. 

"I  have  no  right  to  ask,"  he  went  on,  "but  I  do  beg  you  to 
say  if  it  is  only  as  a  friend  you  like  Rudolph." 

That  startled  me,  for  I  was  afraid  things  I  had  done  might 
have  been  misunderstood,  owing  to  the  difference  of  ways  in 
Holland. 

"Why,"  I  stammered,  "are  you  going  to  warn  me  not  to 
care  for  him,  because  he  doesn't  care  for  me  ?  How  dreadful  /" 

Nell's  cousin  Robert  looked  so  pale,  I  was  afraid  he  must 
be  ill.  He  put  up  his  hand  and  pushed  his  hair  back  from  his 
forehead,  and  then  began  pacing  about  the  room. 

"Rudolph  must  care  —  he  shall  care,  if  you  wish  it,"  he 
said. 

"Oh,"  I  exclaimed,  "I  didn't  mean  it  was  dreadful  if  he 
didn't  care;  but  if  you  thought  I  did." 

He  stopped  walking  and  took  one  big  step  that  brought 
him  to  me. 

"You  do  not  ?" 

"Of  course  not,"  said  I;  "not  in  that  way." 

Mr.  van  Buren  caught  both  my  hands,  and  pressed  them  so 
tightly,  that  I  couldn't  help  giving  a  tiny  squeak. 

"Ah,  I  have  hurt  you!"  he  cried,  and  a  strange  expression 
came  into  his  eyes.  At  least,  it  was  strange  that  it  should  be 
for  me,  instead  of  Freule  Menela,  for  it  was  almost  —  but  no, 


264  THE   CHAPERON 

I  must  have  been  mistaken,  of  course,  in  thinking  it  was  like 
that.  Anyway,  it  was  a  thrilling  expression,  and  made  my 
heart  beat  as  fast  as  if  I  were  frightened,  though  I  think  that 
wasn't  exactly  the  feeling.  I  couldn't  take  my  eyes  away  from 
his  for  a  minute.  We  looked  straight  at  each  other;  then,  as 
if  he  couldn't  resist,  he  kissed  my  hands  one  after  the  other  — 
not  with  polite  little  Dutch  kisses,  but  eager  and  desperate. 
As  he  did  it,  he  gave  a  kind  of  groan,  and  before  I  could 
speak  he  muttered,  "Forgive  me!"  as  he  rushed  out  of  the 
room. 

He  must  have  almost  run  against  Mr.  Starr,  for  the  next 
instant  the  "Mariner"  (as  Jonkheer  Brederode  calls  him) 
came  in,  dripping  wet. 

There  was  I,  all  pink  and  trembling,  and  my  voice  did 
sound  odd  as  I  quavered  out,  "Where's  Nell  ?" 

"Gone  to  her  room,"  said  Mr.  Starr,  looking  hard  at  me 
with  his  brilliant,  whimsical  eyes.  "I  was  to  tell  you  — 

With  that,  I  burst  into  tears. 

"Good  gracious,  poor  angel!  What  is  the  matter?"  he 
exclaimed,  coming  closer. 

"I  don't  know,"  I  sobbed.  "But  I'm  not  an  angel.  I  do 
believe  I'm  a  very  —  wicked  girl." 

"You,  wicked?  Why?" 

"Because  —  I've  got  feelings  I  oughtn't  to  have." 

"And  that's  why  you're  crying  ?" 

"I'm  not  sure.  But  I  just  —  can't  help  it." 

"I  wish  I  could  do  something,"  said  he,  quite  miserably; 
and  I  could  smell  the  wet  serge  of  his  sopping  coat,  though 
I  couldn't  see  him,  for  my  hands  were  over  my  eyes.  I  was 
ashamed  of  myself,  but  not  as  much  ashamed  as  I  would  have 
been  with  any  one  else,  because  of  the  feeling  I  have  that  Mr. 
Starr  would  be  so  wonderfully  nice  and  sympathetic  to  confide 
in.  Not  that  I  have  anything  to  confide. 

"Thank  you,  but  you  couldn't.  Nobody  could,"  I  moaned. 


PHYLLIS   RIVERS*   POINT   OF   VIEW       265 

"Not  even  Miss  Van  Buren  ?;; 

"Not  now.  It's  too  sad.  Something  seems  to  have  come 
between  us ;  I  don't  know  what. " 

"Maybe  that's  making  you  cry  ?" 

"No,  I  don't  think  so.  Oh,  I'm  50  unhappy!" 

"You  poor  little  dove!  You  don't  mind  my  calling  you 
that,  do  you  ?" 

I  shook  my  head.  "No,  it  comforts  me.  It's  so  soothing 
after  — after " 

"After  what  ?  Has  anybody  been  beast  enough  — 

"Nobody's  been  a  beast,"  I  hurried  to  break  in,  "except, 
perhaps,  me." 

"Do  tell  me  what's  troubling  you,"  he  begged,  and  pulled 
my  hands  down  from  my  face,  not  in  the  way  Mr.  van  Buren 
had  caught  them,  but  very  gently.  I  let  him  lead  me  to  a 
sofa  and  dry  my  eyes  with  his  handkerchief,  because  it  seemed 
exactly  like  having  a  brother.  It  was  just  as  nice  to  be  sym 
pathized  with  by  him  as  I  had  often  imagined  it  would  be, 
and  I  liked  it  so  much  that  I  selfishly  forgot  he  was  soaked 
with  rain,  and  ought  to  get  out  of  his  wet  clothes. 

"If  I  knew  I  would  tell  you,"  I  said. 

"You're  wprried  about  Alb  —  I  mean  Brederode  ?" 

"Oh,  now  I  know  I'm  a  beast!  I'd  forgotten  to  ask  about 
him,  or  the  boats." 

"You'd  forgotten  —  by  Jove!  No,  nothing  heard  or  seen 
yet.  I  made  Miss  Van  Buren  come  back  at  last.  Had  to  say 
I  was  afraid  of  catching  cold  or  she'd  be  there  now.  But  see 
here,  as  it  isn't  Alb's  fate  that's  bothering  you,  may  I  make  a 
guess  ?" 

"Yes,  because  you  never  could  guess,"  said  I. 

"Is  it  —  anything  about  van  Buren  ?" 

My  face  felt  as  if  it  was  on  fire.  "Why,  what  should  it  be  ?" 
I  asked. 

"It  might   be,  for  instance,  that  you're  sorry  for  him 


266  THE   CHAPERON 

because  he's  engaged  to  a  brute  of  a  girl  who's  sure  to  make 
him  miserable.  You've  got  such  a  tender  heart." 

"You're  partly  right,"  I  confessed.  "Not  that  he's  been 
complaining.  He  wouldn't  do  such  a  thing." 

"No,  of  course  not,"  said  Mr.  Starr. 

"It's  wonderful  how  that  should  have  come  into  your 
mind,"  I  said.  "Please  don't  think  me  stupid  to  cry,  but 
suddenly  it  came  over  me  —  such  agonizing  pity  for  him.  I 
can't  think  he  loves  her." 

"I'm  sure  he  doesn't.  I  always  wondered  how  he  could, 
but  to-night  I  saw  that  his  engagement  was  making  him 
wretched." 

"You  saw  that  ?" 

"Yes." 

"You're  so  sympathetic,"  I  couldn't  help  saying. 

"Ami?" 

"Yes.  Do  you  know,  I  feel  almost  as  if  you  were  my 
brother?" 

"Oh,  that  settles  it !  It's  all  up  with  me." 

"What  do  you  mean  ?"  I  asked. 

"Whichever  way  I  look  I  find  nothing  but  sisters.  I've 
had  to  promise  myself  to  be  a  brother  to  Miss  Van  Buren,  too, 
to-night." 

"Don't  you  mean  you  promised  her  ?" 

"No,  for  I  haven't  done  that  yet.  But  it  will  probably  come 
later." 

"Would  you  rather  not  be  our  brother?"  I  hope  I  didn't 
speak  reproachfully. 

"We  —  ell,  my  first  idea  was  that  an  aunt  was  the  only 
relative  I  should  have  with  me  on  this  trip.  Still,  I'd  have 
been  delighted  to  be  a  brother  to  one  of  you,  if  I  could  only 
have  kept  the  other  up  my  sleeve,  as  you  might  say,  to  be 
useful  in  a  different  capacity." 

"You  love  to  puzzle  me,"  I  said. 


PHYLLIS    RIVERS'    POINT   OF   VIEW       267 

"There  are  lots  of  things  I  love  about  you  —  as  a  brother, " 
he  answered  with  a  funny  sigh.  And  I  wasn't  sure  whether 
he  was  poking  fun  at  me  or  not.  "But,  as  for  Miss  Van  Buren, 
why  couldn't  she  look  upon  van  Buren  as  a  brother  ? " 

"He's  her  cousin,  and  she  doesn't  love  him  much,"  I  ex 
plained. 

"Alb,  then." 

"She  doesn't  love  him  at  all." 

"Are  you  sure  of  that  ?" 

"Oh,  certain,"  I  assured  him  quite  earnestly. 

"She's  sick  with  anxiety  about  him  anyhow.  I  had  to 
comfort  her. " 

"That's  because  she  feels  guilty  for  being  so  disagreeable, " 
I  said;  "and  she  would  of  course  suffer  dreadful  remorse, 
poor  girl,  if  he  were  drowned  looking  after  her  boat,  as  I  pray 
he  won't  be." 

I  began  to  understand  now.  Poor  Mr.  Starr  was  jealous 
of  his  friend,  the  Jonkheer. 

"Well,  I  wish  she'd  love  me  a  little,  then,  as  there's  nobody 
else." 

"Do  you  know,  I  shouldn't  be  a  bit  surprised  if  she  does," 
I  almost  whispered.  "Perhaps  that's  what's  making  her  so 
queer. " 

"I  wish  I  could  think  so,"  sighed  Mr.  Starr.  But  he  didn't 
look  as  radiant  as  one  might  have  expected.  He  seemed  more 
startled  that  delighted.  "Anyhow,"  he  went  on,  "you're  a 
dove-hearted  angel,  and  it's  all  fixed  up  that  I'm  to  be  a 
brother  to  you,  whatever  other  relationships  I  may  be  en 
gaged  in.  I  must  try  and  get  to  work,  and  earn  my  salt  by 
making  you  happy. " 

"I  don't  feel  to-night  as  if  I  could  ever  be  happy  again," 
I  told  him.  "The  world  seems  such  a  sad  place  to  be  in." 

"I'll  see  what  I  can  do,  anyhow,"  said  he.  "Would  it  make 
you  happier  if  van  Buren  were  happier?" 


268  THE   CHAPERON 

"Oh  yes,"  I  exclaimed.  "He's  been  so  kind  to  Nell  and 
me.  But  I'm  afraid  nothing  can  be  done.  An  unfortunate 
marriage  for  a  young  man  of  —  of  an  affectionate  nature  is 
such  a  tragedy,  isn't  it  ?" 

"Awful.  But  it  may  never  came  off." 

"I  don't  see  what's  to  prevent  it,"  I  said.  And  the  memory 
of  that  last  look  on  Mr.  van  Buren's  face  came  up  so  vividly 
that  tears  stood  in  my  eyes. 

"I've  thought  of  something  that  might,"  said  he;  and  I 
was  burning  to  know  what  when  the  door  opened,  and  Nell 
came  in  without  her  coat  and  hat. 

She  eyed  Mr.  Starr  reproachfully.  "Oh,  you  promised  to 
ask  Robert  to  go  back  with  you  to  the  pier,"  she  said.  "Has 
he  gone  by  himself  ?  " 

"I  don't  —  "  Mr.  Starr  had  begun  guiltily,  still  sitting 
beside  me  on  the  sofa,  when  her  cousin  appeared  on  the 
threshold.  He  was  very  pale,  and  looked  so  grave  that  I 
thought  some  bad  news  must  have  come.  Nell  thought  so, 
too,  for  she  took  a  step  toward  him  as  he  paused  in  the  open 
doorway 

"You've  —  heard  nothing  ?"  she  stammered. 

"Poor  Rudolph,"  he  began;  but  at  the  sound  of  such  a 
beginning  she  put  out  her  hands  as  if  to  ward  off  a  ghost,  and 
her  face  was  so  death-like  I  was  frightened  lest  she  was  going 
to  faint.  Then,  suddenly,  it  changed,  and  lit  up.  I  never  saw 
her  so  beautiful  as  she  was  at  that  moment.  She  gave  a  cry  of 
joy,  and  the  next  instant  our  handsome  brown  skipper  had 
pushed  pass  Mr.  van  Buren  at  the  door,  and  had  both  her 
hands  in  his. 

He  was  dripping  with  water.  Even  his  hair  was  so  wet  that 
I  saw  for  the  first  time  it  was  curly. 

"Oh,  I'm  so  glad,  so  glad!"  faltered  Nell.  "Robert  said 
'  poor  Rudolph ! '  and  I  thought " 

"I  was  only  going  to  say  poor  Rudolph  had  had  a  bad 


PHYLLIS    RIVERS'    POINT   OF   VIEW       269 

night  of  it,"  broke  in  Mr.  van  Buren;  but  I  don't  think  either 
of  them  heard. 

"Were  you  anxious  about  me?  Did  you  care?"  asked 
Jonkheer  Brederode. 

That  seemed  to  call  Nell  back  to  herself.  "I  was  anxious 
about  '  Lorelei/  "  she  said.  "You've  brought  her  back  all 
right?" 

"Yes,  and  l  Waterspin,'  "  he  answered,  with  the  joy  gone 
out  of  his  voice.  "We  had  rough  weather  to  fight  against,  but 
we've  come  to  no  harm."  He  turned  to  me  wistfully.  "Had 
you  a  thought  to  spare  for  the  skipper  once  or  twice  to-day, 
Miss  Rivers?" 

I  was  so  grieved  for  him  that,  before  I  knew  what  I  was 
saying,  I  exclaimed  — 

"Why,  I've  thought  of  nothing  else!" 

I  put  out  my  hand  to  him,  and  he  shook  it  as  if  he  never 
meant  to  let  it  go. 

"How  good  you  are,"  he  said  warmly. 

And  I  didn't  dare  look  at  Mr.  van  Buren,  for  the  idea 
came  to  me  that  maybe  he  would  not  now  believe  what  I 
had  told  him  a  little  while  ago. 

This  morning  I  scolded  Nell  before  our  chaperon  for  her 
coldness  to  Jonkheer  Brederode,  when  he  had  done  so  much 
for  her. 

"How  could  you,"  I  asked,  "when  the  poor  fellow  seemed 
so  pleased  to  think  you  cared  ?  It  was  cruel." 

"I  didn't  want  him  to  think  I  cared,"  Nell  answered. 

"Dear  girl,  you  were  quite  right,"  said  Lady  MacNairne. 
Then  she  laughed.  "He  hoped  to  make  our  Phil  jealous,  I  sup 
pose,  for  his  real  thought  seems  to  have  been  for  her,  doesn't  it?  " 

Neither  of  us  answered.  I  quite  fancied  last  night  that  she 
had  been  wrong  about  those  surmises  of  hers;  but  now,  when 
she  put  it  in  this  way,  I  wasn't  so  sure,  after  all. 


XXIV 

NELL  has  been  very  strange  for  the  last  few  days,  but 
singularly  lovable  to  everybody  except  Jonkheer 
Brederode;  and  to  him  she  has  never  been  the  same 
for  ten  consecutive  minutes.  Perhaps  it  is  a  mercy 
if  Lady  MacNairne  is  right,  and  he  was  never  in  love  with  her, 
though  it  would  be  sad  if  he  thought  of  me  in  that  way.  I 
should  be  sorry  to  have  any  one  as  unhappy  as  I  now  am.  It's 
a  good  thing  for  me  that  we  were  traveling,  for  if  we  were  at 
home  I  should  hardly  be  able  to  go  through  it  without  letting 
Nell  or  others  suspect  the  change.  As  it  is,  there  is  always 
something  new  to  keep  my  thoughts  away  from  myself  and 
other  people,  of  whom  it  may  be  still  more  unwise  to  think. 

Nell  avoided  Jonkheer  Brederode  as  much  as  she  could 
the  morning  after  the  storm.  She  said  that,  as  he  took  no 
interest  in  her,  it  could  not  matter  what  she  did  so  far  as  he 
was  concerned.  She  was  quite  meek  and  subdued  when  she 
answered  any  question  of  his,  until  they  differed  about  some 
thing.  It  was  about  Urk,  a  little  island  she  had  discovered  on 
the  map,  exactly  in  the  middle  of  the  Zuider  Zee. 

When  she  heard  that  "Lorelei-Mascotte's"  motor  had  been 
injured  slightly,  and  we  could  not  go  on,  she  suggested  that 
while  we  were  waiting  we  might  take  steamer  to  the  island, 
stop  all  night,  and  come  back  to  Enkhuisen  next  day.  By  that 
time  Hendrik,  our  chauffeur,  would  have  repaired  the  damage. 

"Urk  isn't  worth  seeing,"  said  our  skipper. 

Nell  asked  if  he  had  ever  been  there. 

"No,"  he  replied;  but  he  had  heard  that  it  was  a  dull  little 
hole,  and  it  would  be  far  better  to  stop  at  Enkhuisen  till  next 

270 


PHYLLIS    RIVERS'   POINT   OF   VIEW 

morning,  when  we  could  get  away,  if  the  weather  changed,  to 
Stavoren. 

"There's  nothing  to  do  in  Enkhuisen,"  said  Nell. 

"No,"  said  he;  "but  there'll  be  less  in  Urk.  I  strongly  advise 
you  not  to  go." 

"That  decides  it,"  said  Mr.  van  Buren,  who  was  stopping 
on  for  a  day  or  two. 

At  once  Nell  fired  up.  "Not  at  all,"  said  she.  "No  one  who 
doesn't  want  to,  need  go;  but  those  who  do,  will.  All  favorably 
inclined  hold  up  their  hands." 

Up  went  Mr.  Starr's,  and  Lady  MacNairne  slowly  followed 
his  example.  Whether  it  is  that  she  wishes  to  be  with  her 
nephew  because  she's  fond  of  him,  or  whether  she  thinks 
highly  of  her  duties  as  our  chaperon;  anyway,  she  generally 
comes  with  us  if  he  does.  I  hated  displeasing  Mr.  van  Buren; 
but  when  Nell  said,  "Phil,  you'll  stick  by  me,  won't  you  ?" 
I  couldn't  desert  her,  especially  as  I  feel  that,  for  some  reason 
or  other,  she's  as  restless  and  unhappy  as  I  am.  It  may  be 
the  poor  dear's  conscience  that  troubles  her;  but  I  sympathize 
with  her  just  the  same,  for  mine  is  far  from  clear.  I  have  such 
hard,  uncharitable  thoughts  toward  one  of  my  own  sex  —  one 
perhaps  not  as  much  older  than  I  am,  as  she  looks. 

I  think  Mr.  van  Buren  was  torn  between  his  desire  to  stand 
by  his  friend  (who  said  he  must  stay  to  superintend  the  re 
pairs)  and  his  natural  wish  to  see  his  cousin  through  any 
undertaking,  no  matter  how  imprudent.  He  went  on  trying  to 
dissuade  Nell  from  going  to  Urk,  but  the  more  he  talked  the 
more  determined  she  grew.  She  was  surprised  at  our  indiffer 
ence  to  a  wonderful  pinhead  of  earth,  which  had  contrived  to 
stick  up  out  of  the  water  and  become  an  island  after  the  great 
inundation  that  formed  the  Zuider  Zee.  Judging  from  guide 
books,  the  population  was  quite  unspoiled,  as  Urk  was  too 
remote  to  be  a  show  place,  although  the  costumes  were  said 
to  be  beautiful.  Such  a  spot  was  romance  itself ,  and  it  would 


272  THE   CHAPERON 

be  almost  a  crime  not  to  visit  it.  The  steamer  would  leave 
Enkhuisen  after  luncheon,  returning  next  day,  so  we  must 
stop  on  the  island  for  about  eighteen  hours;  but  as  the  guides 
mentioned  an  inn,  it  would  be  as  simple  as  interesting  to 
spend  a  night  at  the  idyllic  little  place. 

Jonkheer  Brederode  made  no  more  objections  after  the 
first,  and  finally  it  was  settled  that  all  of  us  should  go,  except 
our  skipper  and  Mr.  van  Buren. 

We  packed  small  bags,  and  took  cameras.  And  we  had 
to  scramble  through  luncheon  to  catch  the  steamer,  which 
was  rather  a  horrid  one,  apparently  being  intended  more  for 
the  convenience  of  enormous  bales,  sacks,  and  fruit-baskets 
than  that  of  its  passengers,  who  were  stuffed  in  anyhow  among 
the  cargo.  Lady  MacNairne  was  furious,  because  it  was  too 
cold  for  Tibe  on  deck,  and  he  wasn't  allowed  below  in  the 
tiny,  poky  cabin.  She  argued  with  the  captain,  or  somebody 
in  authority  and  velvet  slippers;  but  he  being  particularly 
Dutch,  and  very  old,  even  her  fascination  had  no  power.  (It 
is  strange,  but  when  Lady  MacNairne  gets  excited  she  talks 
more  like  an  American  than  a  Scotswoman ;  however,  I  believe 
she  has  been  to  the  States.)  At  last  we  all  three  formed  a  kind 
of  hollow  square  round  Tibe  with  our  skirts  over  his  back, 
and  when  he  wasn't  asleep  he  amused  himself  by  pretending 
that  our  shoes  were  bones. 

Even  Mr.  Starr  could  not  keep  us  gay  and  laughing  for  the 
whole  two  hours  of  the  trip,  for  we  were  squeezed  in  between 
bags  of  potatoes  (he  sat  on  one),  and  our  feet  kept  going  to 
sleep.  But  Nell  said,  think  of  Urk,  and  how  seeing  Urk  would 
make  up  for  everything. 

Eventually  we  did  see  it,  and  it  really  did  look  pretty  from 
a  distance,  with  its  little  close-clustered  red  roofs  like  a  button 
hole  bouquet  floating  on  the  sea.  As  the  steamer  brought  us 
nearer  the  island  something  of  the  glamor  faded;  but  there 
were  about  a  dozen  girls  assembled  to  watch  the  arrival  of  the 


PHYLLIS    RIVERS'   POINT   OF   VIEW       273 

boat,  weariug  rather  nice,  winged  white  caps  and  low-necked 
black  dresses. 

Quickly  we  made  our  cameras  ready,  expecting  them  to 
smile  shyly  and  seem  pleased,  as  at  Volendam;  but  with  one 
accord  they  sneered  and  turned  their  backs,  as  if  on  a  word 
of  command.  We  "snapped"  nothing  but  a  row  of  sunburnt 
necks  under  the  caps.  The  girls  laughed  scornfully,  and  when 
we  landed  they  repaid  our  first  interest  in  them  by  staring  at 
us  with  impudent  contempt.  There  was  no  one  to  carry  our 
bags,  so  we  had  to  do  it  ourselves,  Mr.  Starr  taking  all  he  could 
manage;  and  as  we  trailed  off  to  find  the  hotel,  about  forty 
or  fifty  ugly  and  disagreeable-looking  people  followed  after 
us,  jeering  and  evidently  making  the  most  personal  remarks. 

Nobody  could,  or  would,  tell  us  where  to  find  the  inn; 
but  it  was  close  by  really,  as  we  presently  found  out  for  our 
selves,  after  we  had  gone  the  wrong  way  once  or  twice.  Per 
haps  it  wasn't  strange,  though,  that  we  missed  it,  for  it  was 
a  shabby  little  house  with  no  resemblance  to  a  hotel;  and 
when  we  went  in,  the  landlord,  who  was  cleaning  lamps  and 
curtain-rods  in  a  scene  of  great  disorder  in  the  principal  room, 
showed  signs  of  bewildered  surprise  at  sight  of  us.  But  he  was 
a  great  deal  more  surprised  when  he  heard  that  we  wished  to 
stay  the  night.  He  had  not  many  rooms,  he  said,  and  people 
seldom  asked  for  them;  indeed,  no  tourist  had  ever  done  so 
before  within  his  experience.  Still,  he  would  do  his  best  for 
us,  and  —  yes,  we  could  see  the  rooms. 

He  dropped  his  cleaning-rags  and  curtain-rods  on  the  floor, 
and,  opening  a  door,  started  to  go  up  a  ladder  which  led  to  a 
square  hole  in  the  floor  above.  We  followed,  all  but  Lady 
MacNairne,  who  would  not  go  because  Tibe  could  not,  and 
at  the  top  of  the  hole  were  two  little  boxes  of  rooms  with  beds 
in  the  wall  —  stuffy,  unmade  beds,  which  perhaps  the  land 
lord  and  some  members  of  the  family  had  slept  in. 

"This  is  going  to  be  an  adventure,"  said  Nell;  but  her  voice 


274  THE   CHAPERON 

did  not  sound  very  cheerful,  and  I  felt  I  could  have  cried  when 
I  heard  that  she  and  I  would  have  to  bunk  together  in  the  wall, 
in  a  two-foot  wide  bed  smelling  like  wet  moss. 

We  were  dying  for  tea,  or  even  coffee,  but  it  seemed  useless 
to  ask  for  it,  as  apparently  there  were  no  servants,  and  the 
landlord  went  back  to  his  cleaning  the  instant  we  had  scram 
bled  down  the  ladder. 

"Perhaps,"  said  I,  "we  can  find  a  cafe,  if  we  go  out  and 
explore. " 

So  we  went,  followed  by  beggars  for  the  first  time  in 
Holland,  and  it  was  a  hideous  island,  with  no  sign  of  a  cafe  or 
anything  else  nice,  or  even  clean.  All  was  as  unlike  as  possible 
to  the  ideas  we  had  formed  of  the  dear  little  Hollow  Land. 
There  were  dead  cats,  and  bad  eggs,  and  old  bones  lying 
about  the  oozy  gutters,  and  people  shouted  disagreeable  things 
at  us  from  their  doorways. 

Mr.  Starr  tried  to  be  merry,  but  it  was  as  difficult,  even  for 
him,  as  making  jokes  in  the  tumbril  on  the  way  to  have  your 
head  cut  off,  and  Lady  MacNairne  said  at  last  that  she  would 
much  rather  have  hers  cut  off  than  stay  seventeen  more  hours 
in  such  a  ghastly  hole. 

"I  simply  can't  and  won't,  and  you  shan't,  either!"  she 
exclaimed.  "We've  been  here  an  hour,  and  it  seems  a  month. 
Somehow  we  must  get  away." 

Poor  Nell  was  sadly  crushed.  She  admitted  that  she  had 
made  a  horrible  mistake,  which  she  regretted  more  for  our 
sakes  than  her  own,  though  she  herself  was  so  bored  that  she 
felt  a  decrepit  wreck,  a  hundred  years  old. 

"But  the  steamer  doesn't  come  back  till  eight  or  nine 
to-morrow  morning.  I'm  afraid  we'll  have  to  grin  and  bear  it 
till  then,"  said  Mr.  Starr. 

"I  can't  grin,  and  I  won't  bear  it,"  replied  Lady  Mac 
Nairne.  "Dearest  Ronny,  you  are  a  man,  and  we  look  to  you 
to  get  us  away  from  here." 


PHYLLIS    RIVERS'    POINT   OF   VIEW        275 

Poor  Mr.  Starr  stared  wildly  out  to  sea,  as  if  he  would  call 
a  bark  of  some  sort  from  the  vasty  deep;  but  there  was 
nothing  to  be  seen  except  an  endless  expanse  of  gray  water. 
Nell  had  torn  her  dress  on  a  barbed-wire  fence  which  shut  us 
away  from  the  only  spot  of  green  on  the  hideous  island ;  Tibe 
had  unfortunately  eaten  part  of  what  Mr.  Starr  said  was  an 
Early  Christian  egg ;  I  had  wrenched  my  ankle  badly  on  a  bit 
of  banana  peel;  Lady  MacNairne's  smart  coat  was  spoilt  by 
some  mud  which  a  small  Urkian  boy  had  thrown  at  her,  and 
Mr.  Starr  must  have  felt  that,  if  he  didn't  instantly  perform  a 
miracle,  he  would  be  blamed  by  us  all  for  everything. 

"We  might  get  a  sailing-boat,"  he  said,  when  he  had 
thought  passionately  for  a  few  minutes. 

We  snapped  at  the  idea,  and  a  moment  later  we  were  on 
our  way  to  the  harbor  to  find  out. 

Now  was  the  time  that  I  became  a  person  of  importance. 
Owing  to  my  studies,  in  which  Mr.  van  Buren  has  encouraged 
me  so  kindly,  I  know  enough  Dutch  to  ask  for  most  things 
I  want,  and  to  understand  whether  people  mean  to  let  me  have 
them  or  not,  which  seems  odd,  considering  that  I  deliberately 
made  up  my  mind  not  to  learn  a  word  when  Nell  almost 
dragged  me  to  Holland.  Under  Mr.  Starr's  guidance,  and  at 
his  dictation,  I  interviewed  every  sailor  we  met  lounging  about 
the  harbor. 

It  was  very  discouraging  at  first.  The  men  were  all  sure 
that  no  sailing-boat  could  get  to  Enkhuisen,  as  the  wind  was 
exactly  in  the  wrong  quarter;  but  just  as  our  hearts  were  on 
their  way  down  to  the  boots  Tibe  had  gnawed  so  much,  a 
brown  young  man,  with  crisp  black  curls  and  ear-rings,  said  we 
could  go  to  Kampen  if  we  liked.  It  would  take  four  or  five 
hours,  and  we  should  have  to  sleep  there,  taking  the  steamer 
when  it  started  back  in  the  morning.  Kampen  was  beautiful, 
he  told  us,  with  old  buildings  and  water-gates;  but  even  if 
it  hadn't  been,  we  were  convinced  that  it  must  be  better  than 


276  THE   CHAPERON 

Urk;  so  we  joyously  engaged  a  large  fishing-boat  owned  by  the 
brown  man  and  his  still  browner  father. 

We  made  poor  Mr.  Starr  go  back  alone  to  the  inn  and 
break  it  to  the  landlord  that  we  were  not  going  to  stay,  after 
all;  but  he  paid  for  the  rooms,  so  the  old  man  was  delighted 
that  he  could  go  on  with  his  cleaning  in  peace. 

Now  we  began  to  be  quite  happy  and  excited.  Mr.  Starr 
brought  us  bread  and  cheese  from  the  inn  to  eat  on  board,  and 
presently  we  were  all  packed  away  in  the  fishing-boat,  which 
smelt  interestingly  of  ropes  and  tar. 

Nell  and  I  sat  on  the  floor,  where  we  could  feel  as  well  as 
hear  the  knocking  of  the  little  waves  against  the  planks  which 
alone  separated  us  from  the  water. 

There  was  not  much  breeze  to  begin  with,  for  the  winds 
seemed  to  be  resting  after  their  orgy  of  yesterday,  and  just  as 
the  old  bronze  statue  and  the  young  bronze  statue  were  ready 
to  start,  the  little  there  was  died  as  if  of  exhaustion. 

There  we  sat  and  waited,  our  muscles  involuntarily  strain 
ing,  as  if  to  help  the  boat  along;  but  the  sail  flapped  idly:  we 
might  as  well  have  tried  to  sail  on  the  waxed  floor  of  a  ball 
room  with  the  windows  shut. 

"Can't  they  do  something?"  asked  Lady  MacNairne,  in 
growing  despair. 

I  passed  the  question  on;  but  the  men  shook  their  heads. 
Without  some  faint  breeze  to  help  them  along  they  could  not 
move. 

When  half  an  hour  had  dragged  itself  away,  and  still  the 
air  was  dead,  or  fast  asleep  (Mr.  Starr  said  that  Urk  had  stifled 
it),  we  began  to  realize  the  fate  to  which  we  were  doomed. 
We  would  either  have  to  spend  the  night  curled  up  among 
coils  of  rope,  with  no  shelter  except  a  windowless,  furnitureless 
cupboard  of  four  feet  by  three,  which  maybe  called  itself  a 
cabin,  or  we  would  have  to  crawl  humbly  back  to  the  inn  and 
sue  for  a  night's  lodging. 


PHYLLIS   RIVERS'   POINT   OF   VIEW       277 

We  were  hungry  and  cross,  a  little  tired,  and  very,  very 
hot.  It  would  have  been  a  great  relief  to  burst  into  tears,  or 
be  disagreeable  to  some  one.  I  don't  know  why,  but  I  had  the 
most  homesick  longing  to  see  Mr.  van  Buren.  It  seemed  as 
if,  had  he  come  with  us,  everything  would  have  been  right, 
or  at  least  bearable. 

Suddenly,  as  we  were  dismally  trying  to  make  up  our  minds 
what  to  do,  and  Mr.  Starr  had  proposed  to  toss  a  coin,  Lady 
MacNairne  pointed  wildly  out  to  sea,  crying  — 

"Look  there  —  look  there !" 

A  dot  of  a  thing  was  tearing  over  the  water  —  a  dot  of  a 
thing,  like  our  own  darling,  blessed  motor-boat,  and  the  nearer 
it  came  the  more  like  it  was.  At  last  there  was  no  room  for 
doubt.  "Lorelei-Mascotte"  was  speeding  to  our  rescue,  across 
the  Zuider  Zee,  all  alone,  without  fat,  waddling  "Waterspin." 

I  don't  believe,  if  I'd  heard  that  some  one  had  made  me 
a  present  of  the  Tower  of  London,  with  everything  in  it,  I 
should  have  been  as  distracted  with  joy  as  I  was  now,  for  the 
Tower  couldn't  have  got  us  away  from  Urk,  and  "Lorelei- 
Mascotte"  could.  Besides,  Mr.  van  Buren  would  probably  not 
have  been  in  the  Tower,  whereas  intuition  told  me  that  he  was 
coming  to  me  —  that  is  to  us  —  as  fast  as  "Mascotte's"  motor 
could  bring  him. 

We  stood  up,  and  waved,  and  shouted.  I  hardly  know  what 
other  absurd  things  we  may  not  have  done,  in  our  delirium  of 
joy.  As  I  said  to  Mr.  van  Buren  a  few  minutes  later,  it  was 
exactly  like  being  rescued  from  a  desert  island  when  your  food 
had  just  given  out,  and  you  thought  savages  were  going  to 
kill  you  in  the  night. 

Jonkheer  Brederode  was  almost  superhumanly  nice,  con 
sidering  what  he  had  endured  at  Nell's  hands,  and  that  it  was 
really  through  her  obstinacy  that  we'd  suffered  so  much,  and 
made  ourselves  and  everybody  else  concerned  so  much  trouble. 
Mr.  van  Buren  said,  for  his  part,  he  would  have  tried  to 


278  THE   CHAPERON 

persuade  his  friend  to  punish  Nell  by  leaving  her  to  her  fate,  if 
he  hadn't  been  sorry  to  have  it  involve  me  —  and,  of  course, 
the  others. 

When  Jonkheer  Brederode  found  that  by  ferociously  hard 
work  on  his  part  and  Hendrik's,  the  damage  could  be  repaired 
sooner  than  he  had  expected,  he  at  once  proposed  following  us 
to  Urk.  He  knew  what  it  was  like,  and  how,  within  a  few 
minutes  after  landing,  we  would  hate  it.  He  was  certain  that 
we  would  be  in  despair  at  being  tied  to  the  wretched  island  for 
the  night,  and  he  had  proposed  to  go  teuf-teufing  to  our  suc 
cor.  The  lack  of  wind  which  had  meant  ruin  to  our  hopes,  was 
a  boon  to  the  motor-boat,  which  had  flown  along  the  smooth 
water  at  her  best  speed.  And  when  "Mascotte"  was  received  by 
us  with  acclamations,  our  noble  skipper  did  not  even  smile  a 
superior  smile. 

He  only  said  that,  when  he  found  he  could,  he  thought  he 
might  as  well  follow,  and  spin  us  back,  if  we  liked  to  go,  and 
he  hoped  Miss  Van  Buren  would  pardon  the  liberty  he  had 
taken  with  her  boat. 

If  she  had  been  horrid  to  him  then,  I  do  believe  I  should 
have  slapped  her;  but  she  had  the  grace  to  laugh  and  say  that 
"Mascotte"  really  was  a  mascot.  There  is  something,  I  sup 
pose,  in  having  a  sense  of  humor,  in  which  I'm  alleged  to  be 
deficient. 


XXV 

THAT  was  the  way  it   happened  that  we  had  two 
nights  at  Enkhuisen;  but  the  second  we  spent  on 
"Lorelei-Mascotte"  and   "Waterspin,"  sleeping   on 
the  boats  for  the  first  time,  and  it  was  great  fun. 
The  next  morning  early,  we  had  a  picnic  breakfast  on  board, 
making  coffee  with  the  grand  apparatus  in  Mr.  Starr's  won 
derful  tea-basket,  which  he  had  bought  at  the  most  expensive 
shop  in  London,  like  the  extravagant  young  man  he  is.  We 
didn't  wait  to  finish  before  we  were  off;  and  then  came  the 
trip  to  Stavoren,  which  Jonkheer  Brederode  would  not  have 
let  us  make  on  the  boat,  if  the  weather  had  not  been  calm,  for 
once  more  we  had  to  steer  straight  across  the  Zuider  Zee  for 
several  hours. 

When  we  had  arrived  it  was  hard  to  realize  that  Stavoren 
had  once  been  a  place  of  vast  importance,  and  that  a  powerful 
king  had  lived  there  in  old,  old  days,  for  the  bastion  seemed 
the  only  thing  of  importance  in  the  poor  little  town  now.  But 
no  doubt  the  great  sand-bank,  with  its  famous  legend  of  the 
Proud  Lady,  is  enough  to  account  for  the  decline. 

Nell  smiled  in  a  naughty,  mischievous  way,  when  her 
cousin  remarked  that  his  mother's  family  came  originally  from 
Friesland,  I  suppose  because  Jonkheer  Brederode  had  just 
told  us  that  the  Frisian  people  are  the  most  obstinate  and  per 
sistent  in  the  Netherlands :  that  all  the  obstinacy  in  any  other 
whole  province  would  not  be  as  much  as  is  contained  in  one 
Frisian  man  —  or  woman.  But  I  think  they  have  reason  to  be 
proud  of  themselves,  especially  as  their  obstinacy  has  kept 
their  ancient  customs  and  language  almost  intact,  and  the 

279 


280  THE   CHAPERON 

Spaniards  never  could  make  the  least  impression  upon  them 
by  the  most  original  and  terrific  kinds  of  tortures,  invented 
especially  to  subdue  Frisians.  If  they  were  buried  alive,  they 
just  went  on  smiling,  and  saying,  "I  will,"  or  "I  won't,"  until 
their  mouths  were  covered  up. 

I  almost  wished  that  Jonkheer  Brederode  hadn't  said,  be 
fore  Mr.  van  Buren,  that  a  "Frisian  head"  is  an  expression 
used  by  the  Dutch  when  they  mean  incredible  hardness  or 
obstinacy;  but  he  didn't  mind  at  all,  and  immediately  told  us 
a  thing  that  happened  to  his  mother  and  some  Frisian  cousins 
of  hers  when  they  were  girls.  A  musical  genius,  a  young  man, 
was  visiting  at  their  house,  and  when  he  had  played  a  great 
deal  for  them  at  their  request,  he  made  a  bet  that  they  would 
tire  of  hearing  his  music  before  he  tired  of  making  it.  They 
took  the  bet,  and  he  began  to  play  again;  but  he  was  not 
Frisian,  and  had  never  been  in  Friesland  before,  therefore  he 
was  not  prepared  for  what  would  happen.  Still,  he  was  Dutch, 
so  he  did  not  like  giving  up,  and  he  went  on  playing  for  twenty- 
four  hours,  without  stopping  for  more  than  five  minutes  at  a 
time.  The  ladies  always  exclaimed :  "Please  go  on  if  you  can ; 
we're  not  tired  at  all,"  though  they  looked  very  pale  and  ill;  so 
he  didn't  stop  until  he  tumbled  off  his  music-stool,  and  had  to 
be  carried  away  to  bed,  where  he  lay  for  two  days.  But  the 
Frisian  girls  suffered  no  bad  consequences,  and  said,  if  he  had 
not  given  up,  they  would  have  sat  listening  for  at  least  a  week. 

Once  Jonkheer  Brederode  had  a  big  yacht  which  he  lent  to 
the  Belgian  king  for  a  trip,  and  there  was  a  Frisian  skipper. 
Every  morning  the  decks  were  washed  at  five  o'clock,  and  the 
king  sent  word  that  he  would  be  glad  to  have  it  done  later  in 
the  day,  as  it  waked  him  up,  and  he  could  not  go  to  sleep 
again.  Then  the  Frisian  answered,  "Very  sorry,  King,  but 
we  always  do  wash  the  decks  at  five,  and  it  must  be  done"; 
which  amused  his  majesty  so  much  that  he  made  no  more 
objections. 


PHYLLIS   RIVERS'   POINT   OF   VIEW       281 

If  the  people  of  Friesland  have  great  individuality,  so  have 
their  meers.  There  was  a  canal  through  which  we  had  to  pass 
after  Stavoren,  like  a  long,  green- walled  corridor  leading  into  a 
huge  room.  The  green  wall  was  made  of  tall  reeds,  and  we 
had  glimpses  of  level  golden  spaces,  and  sails  which  seemed  to 
be  skimming  through  meadows.  There  was  a  crying  of  gulls, 
a  smell  of  salt  and  of  peat,  which  once  formed  the  great  forests 
swallowed  up  by  the  meer.  Then,  through  a  kind  of  water- 
gateway,  we  slipped  into  our  first  Frisian  meer,  where  the 
water  was  like  glass,  the  black  sails  of  yellow  sail-boats  were 
purple  in  the  sunlight,  and  the  windmills  on  the  distant  shore 
looked  like  restless,  gesticulating  ghosts. 

Our  wash  raised  a  golden,  pearl-fringed  wave,  but  the  water 
was  so  clear  that  now  and  then  we  fancied  we  could  faintly  see 
the  old  road  under  the  meer,  which  they  say  Frisian  farmers 
use  to  this  day,  knowing  just  where  and  how  to  guide  their 
horses  along  it,  through  the  water. 

Because  of  this  road,  and  others  like  it,  Jonkheer  Bred  erode 
had  taken  on  a  pilot  at  Stavoren,  a  man  able  to  keep  us  off  all 
hidden  perils.  He  seemed  to  know  every  person  on  every 
heavily-laden  peat-boat,  or  brightly  painted  eel-boat,  and  Nell 
insisted  that  even  the  families  of  wild  ducks  we  met  nodded  to 
him  as  we  went  by. 

We  passed  from  the  meer  called  Morra  into  the  biggest  in 
all  Friesland,  Fluessen  Meer;  and  it  was  all  rather  like  the 
Norfolk  Broads,  where  my  father  once  took  me  when  I  was  a 
child.  Always  going  from  one  meer  into  another,  there  were 
charming  canals,  decorated  with  pretty  little  houses  in  gardens 
bf  roses  and  hollyhocks,  and  emphasized,  somehow,  by  strange 
windmills  exactly  like  large,  wise  gray  owls,  or,  in  the  dis 
tance,  resembling  monks  bearing  aloft  tall  crosses. 

It  was  exquisite  to  glide  on  and  on  between  two  worlds; 
the  world  of  realities,  the  world  of  reflections.  Villages  were 
far  separated  one  from  another,  on  canal  and  meer,  though 


282  THE   CHAPERON 

there  were  many  farmhouses,  walled  round  by  great  trees  to 

keep  cool  the  store-lofts  in  their  steeply-sloping  roofs.  Gulls 

sat  about  like  domestic  fowls,  and  perched  on  the  backs  of 

cows,  that  grazed  in  meadows  fringed  with  pink  and  purple 

flowers. 

Men  and  girls  rowed  home  from  milking,  and  hung  their 
green  and  scarlet  milk-pails  in  rows  on  the  outer  walls  of  their 
farmhouse  homes.  Fishing-nets  were  looped  from  pole  to  pole 
by  the  water-side,  in  such  curious  fashion  as  to  look  like  vine 
yards  of  trailing  brown  vines;  and  as  we  drew  near  to  Sneek, 
where  we  planned  to  stay  the  night,  we  began  to  meet  quaint 
lighters,  with  much  picturesque  family  life  going  on,  on  board ; 
children  playing  with  queer,  homemade  toys ;  ancient,  white- 
capped  dames  knitting ;  girls  flirting  with  young  men  on  pass 
ing  peat-boats  —  men  in  scarlet  jerseys  which,  repeated  in  the 
smooth  water,  looked  like  running  fire  under  glass. 

The  old  seventeenth-century  water-gate  at  Sneek  was  so 
beautiful,  that  we  expected  to  like  the  place  with  the  ugly 
name;  but  after  all  we  hated  it,  and  decided  to  spend  another 
night  in  our  own  floating  houses. 

All  sorts  of  funny,  water-noises  waked  me  early;  but  then, 
I  hadn't  slept  very  soundly,  because  I  couldn't  help  thinking  a 
good  deal  about  Mr.  van  Buren,  who  found  a  telegram  waiting 
for  him  at  Sneek,  and  went  away  from  us  by  the  first  train  he 
could  catch.  I  don't  know  what  was  in  the  telegram,  but  he 
looked  rather  miserable  as  he  read  it,  and  I  wondered  a  good 
deal  in  the  night  if  his  mother  had  called  him  back  because 
Freule  Menela  van  der  Windt  was  not  pleased  at  having  him 
stay  so  long  with  us. 

Nell  thought  our  next  day's  run,  going  through  the  River 
Boorn  to  the  Sneeker  Meer,  past  Grouw  and  on  to  Leeuwar- 
den,  even  more  delightful  than  the  day  before;  but  it  didn't 
seem  as  interesting  to  me,  somehow.  Perhaps  it  was  having  a 
person  who  was  partly  Frisian  standing  by  me  all  the  time,  and 


PHYLLIS   RIVERS'   POINT   OP  VIEW      283 

telling  me  things,  which  made  the  difference;  anyway,  I  had  a 
homesick  feeling,  as  if  something  were  lacking.  Mr.  Starr  said 
it  would  be  nice  to  spend  a  honeymoon  on  board  one  of  the 
nice  little  wherries  we  saw  in  the  big  meer;  but  I  thought  of 
Mr.  van  Buren  and  Freule  Menela  having  theirs  on  one,  and  it 
gave  me  quite  a  sinking  of  the  heart.  I  tried  not  to  show  that  I 
was  sad,  but  I'm  afraid  Mr.  Starr  guessed,  for  in  the  afternoon 
he  gave  me  a  water-color  sketch  he  had  made  in  the  morning, 
on  deck*  He  called  it  a  "rough,  impressionist  thing,"  but  it  is 
really  exquisite;  the  water  pale  lilac,  with  silver  frills  of  foam, 
just  as  it  looked  in  the  light  when  he  sat  painting;  fields  of 
cloth-of-gold,  starred  with  wild  flowers  in  the  foreground;  far- 
off  trees  in  soft  gray  and  violet,  with  a  gleam  of  rose  here  and 
there,  which  means  a  house-roof  half  hidden,  in  the  middle 
distance.  Lady  MacNairne  admired  the  sketch  particularly; 
and  I  got  the  idea  —  I  hardly  know  why  —  that  she  was  not 
quite  pleased  to  have  it  given  to  me  instead  of  to  her. 


XXVI 

IT  was  late  afternoon  when  we  came  to  Leeuwarden,  and 
the  first  thing  we  found  out  was,  that  it  was  not  at  all 
a  place  where  we  should  enjoy  stopping  on  the  boats, 
because  of  a  very  "ancient"  and  very,  very  "fish-like 
smell"  which  pervaded  the  canal,  and  made  us  wear  extra 
ordinary  expressions  on  our  faces  as  it  found  its  way  to  our 
nostrils.  But  nobody  else  seemed  even  to  notice  it;  nobody 
else  wore  agonized  expressions;  indeed,  the  girls  we  met  as 
we  drove  to  the  hotel  had  dove-like,  smiling  faces.  They 
were  tall  and  radiantly  fair,  with  peace  in  their  eyes;  and 
those  who  still  kept  to  the  fashion  of  wearing  gold  and  silver 
helmet-head-dresses  were  like  noble  young  Minervas.  I  could 
have  scolded  the  ones  who  were  silly  enough  to  wear  modern 
hats;  but  all  the  old  ladies  were  most  satisfactory.  We  didn't 
meet  one  who  had  not  been  loyal  to  the  helmet  of  her  youth ; 
and  they  were  such  beautiful  old  creatures  that  I  could  well 
believe  the  legend  Jonkheer  Brederode  told  us :  how  the  sirens 
of  the  North  Sea  had  wedded  Frisian  men,  and  all  the  girl- 
children  had  been  as  magically  lovely  as  their  mothers. 

The  old-fashioned,  rather  dull  streets  were  crowded  with 
people,  who  seemed  in  more  of  a  hurry  to  get  somewhere  than 
they  need  have  been,  in  such  a  sleepy  town;  and  when  we 
arrived  at  the  hotel  all  was  excitement  and  bustle.  It  hap 
pened  that  we  had  come  in  the  midst  of  Kermess  week,  the 
greatest  event  of  the  year  at  Leeuwarden;  and  if  a  party  of 
Americans  had  not  gone  away  unexpectedly  that  morning  they 
could  not  have  given  us  rooms,  though  Jonkheer  Brederode 
had  telegraphed  from  Sneek. 

284 


PHYLLIS    RIVERS'    POINT   OF   VIEW       285 

As  soon  as  we  were  settled,  though  it  was  nearly  dinner 
time,  he  proposed  that  we  should  dart  out  and  have  a  look 
round  the  fair,  because,  he  said,  ladies  must  not  go  at  night. 

"Why  not?"  asked  Nell,  quick,  as  usual,  to  take  him  up 
if  he  seems  inclined  to  be  masterful.  "I  should  think  it  would 
be  more  amusing  at  night." 

"So  it  is,"  he  admitted  calmly. 

"Then  why  aren't  we  to  see  it  ?" 

"Because  the  play  is  too  rough.  Tom,  Dick,  and  Harry, 
as  you  say  in  England,  come  out  after  dark,  when  the  fair's 
lighted  up  and  at  its  gayest,  and  it  is  no  place  for  ladies  to  be 
hustled  about  in." 

"I've  always  found  '  Tom,  Dick,  and  Harry,'  very  inoffen 
sive  fellows,"  Nell  persisted. 

"You've  never  been  to  a  Dutch  Kermess." 

"That's  why  I  want  to  go. " 

"So  you  shall,  before  dark." 

"And  after  dark,  too,"  she  added,  as  obstinately  as  if  she 
had  been  a  Frisian. 

"That  is  impossible,"  said  Jonkheer  Brederode,  his  mouth 
and  chin  looking  hard  and  firm. 

Nell  didn't  say  any  more,  though  she  shrugged  her  shoul 
ders;  but  the  expression  of  her  eyes  was  ominous,  and  I  felt 
that  she  was  planning  mischief. 

We  walked  out  to  the  Kermess,  which  Lady  MacNairne 
and  Mr.  Starr  pronounced  very  like  a  French  country  fair; 
but  it  seemed  wonderful  to  me.  There  were  streets  and  streets 
of  booths,  little  and  big,  gorgeously  decorated,  where  people 
in  the  costumes  of  their  provinces  sold  every  imaginable  kind 
of  thing.  Nell  was  so  well-behaved  that  she  evidently  disarmed 
Jonkheer  Brederode's  suspicions,  if  he  had  shared  mine;  and 
when  she  proposed  buying  a  quantity  of  sweets  and  cheap 
toys  for  us  to  give  away  to  families  of  children  up6n  the 
lighters  we  passed  on  canals,  he  was  ready  to  humor  her.  We 


286  THE   CHAPERON 

chose  all  sorts  of  toys  and  sweets  —  enough  to  last  us  for  days 
of  playing  Santa  Glaus  —  and  bargained  in  Dutch  with  the 
people  who  sold,  making  them  laugh  sometimes.  Then,  Jonk- 
heer  Bred  erode  took  us  to  all  the  best  side-shows:  the  giant 
steer,  as  big  as  sixteen  every-day  oxen;  the  smallest  horse  in 
the  world,  a  fairy  beast,  thoughtfully  doing  sums  in  the  sand 
with  his  miniature  forepaw;  the  fat  lady,  very  bored  and 
warm;  the  fair  Circassian,  who  lured  audiences  into  a  hot 
theater  with  tinsel  decorations  like  a  Christmas-tree  and 
hundreds  of  colored  lights.  There  were  other  sights;  but 
Jonkheer  Brederode  said  these  were  the  only  ones  for  ladies, 
and  hurried  us  by  some  of  the  booths  with  painted  pictures 
of  three-headed  people  or  girls  cut  off  at  the  waist,  which  Nell 
wished  particularly  to  see.  He  wouldn't  let  us  go  into  the 
merry-go-rounds  either,  and  by  the  time  we  got  back  to  the 
hotel  —  our  hands  full  of  dolls,  tops,  spotted  wooden  horses, 
boxes  of  blocks,  and  packets  of  nougat  surmounted  with 
chenille  monkeys  —  she  was  boiling  with  pent-up  resentment. 

Already  we  were  late  for  dinner,  and  we  still  had  to  dress ; 
but  Nell  —  who  shared  a  room  with  me,  as  the  hotel  was 
crowded  —  said  that  she  must  slip  out  again,  to  buy  something 
which  she  wished  to  select  when  alone;  she  would  not  be  gone 
many  minutes. 

I  was  all  ready  when  she  ran  in  again  with  two  large 
bundles  in  her  hands.  She  would  not  tell  me  what  they  were, 
as  she  was  in  a  hurry  to  change  (at  least,  that  was  her  excuse), 
but  promised  that  I  should  see  something  interesting  if  I 
would  come  up  to  the  room  with  her  after  dining;  and  I  was 
not  to  tell  any  one  that  she  had  been  out  for  the  second  time. 

We  were  long  over  our  dinner,  as  there  was  such  a  crowd 
that  the  waiters  grew  quite  confused ;  and,  at  the  end,  we  three 
women  sat  with  Jonkheer  Brederode  and  Mr.  Starr  in  the 
garden  behind  the  hotel,  while  the  men  smoked.  Nell  was 
so  patient  that  I  almost  thought  she  had  forgotten  the  bundles 


PHYLLIS    RIVERS'    POINT   OF   VIEW       287 

up-stairs.  But  at  last  Lady  MacNairne,  hearing  a  clock  chime 
ten,  announced  that  she  had  some  writing  to  do  before  going 
to  bed. 

"I  suppose  you  will  have  a  look  at  the  Kermess  again  ?" 
she  said  to  our  two  knights. 

"I've  seen  dozens  of  such  fairs;  and  when  you've  seen 
one,  you've  seen  pretty  well  all,  nowadays.  But  if  the  Mariner 
would  like  to  go,  I  shall  be  glad  to  go  with  him,"  Jonkheer 
Brederode  answered. 

"I'm  not  sure  I  didn't  see  enough  this  afternoon,"  said 
Mr.  Starr.  "Anyhow,  I  mean  to  have  another  cigarette  or 
two  here;  and  I  do  think  the  ladies  might  stop  with  me,  for 
I  have  a  hundred  things  to  say." 

Lady  MacNairne  and  Nell  were  on  their  feet,  however, 
and  would  not  be  persuaded;  so  we  bade  each  other  good 
night,  and  three  minutes  later  Nell  was  opening  her  parcels 
in  our  room. 

"Among  the  last  letters  that  were  forwarded  from  London, 
was  a  larger  check  than  I  expected  from  the  Fireside  Friend, " 
said  she;  "so  I've  bought  a  present  for  you,  and  for  me,  from 
my  affectionate  self." 

With  that,  she  had  the  paper  wrappings  off  two  glittering 
Frisian  head-dresses,  like  beautiful  gold  skull-caps.  And  in 
the  other  bundle  were  two  black  shawls,  like  those  I  had  seen 
several  girls  of  Leeuwarden  wearing. 

"Oh,  how  sweet!"  I  exclaimed.  "Thank  you  so  much.  I've 
been  wanting  some  kind  of  costume  ever  since  Amsterdam, 
where  they  were  so  expensive.  These  are  to  take  home  and 
keep  as  souvenirs,  when  we  are  at  work  in  our  poor  little  flat, 
just  as  if  nothing  had  ever  happened  to  us." 

Nell  gave  a  shudder,  but  she  didn't  say  that  we  never 
would  go  home  and  to  work  again,  as  she  used  to  say  if  I 
spoke  of  it  when  we  were  beginning  our  trip.  Instead  she 
said 


288  THE    CHAPERON 

"I  don't  know  about  the  future;  but  I'm  going  to  wear  mine 
to-night." 

"What,  sleep  in  that  helmet  ?"  I  asked. 

She  laughed.  "I'm  not  thinking  about  sleep  yet.  It's  just 
the  edge  of  the  evening  —  in  Kermess  week.  Watch  me. " 

Sho  undid  her  hair,  which  is  very  long  and  thick,  and 
seems  even  thicker  than  it  is,  if  possible,  because  it  is  so  wavy. 
Then  she  plaited  it  tightly  into  two  braids,  and  straining,  and 
pulling,  and  pushing  the  little  ripples  and  rings  back  from  her 
face,  as  well  as  she  could,  she  managed  to  put  on  the  helmet. 
Then  she  tied  the  shawl  over  her  shoulders;  and  as  she  had 
on  a  short  dark  skirt  which  was  unnoticeable,  she  looked,  for 
all  the  world,  like  a  beautiful  Frisian  girl. 

I  told  her  this,  and  she  said,  "Will  you  be  a  Frisian  girl 
too,  and  come  out  with  me  to  see  the  Kermess  at  the  time 
when  it's  worth  seeing  ?" 

I  was  dreadfully  startled,  and  of  course  said  "No."  I  had 
never  done  anything  in  disguise,  and  I  never  would. 

"Very  well,  then,"  said  Nell,  "I'll  go  alone." 

I  tried  to  dissuade  her;  but  she  did  not  object  to  shocking 
Jonkheer  Brederode. 

"It  would  do  him  good,"  she  said.  "Only  he  won't  have 
the  chance  this  time,  because  no  one  would  ever  recognize  me, 
would  they?" 

I  looked  hard  at  her,  and  was  not  quite  sure,  though  the 
pushing  back  of  the  hair  and  the  wearing  of  the  helmet  did 
change  her  wonderfully,  to  say  nothing  of  the  shawl.  But  she 
looked  far  too  beautiful  to  go  out  alone  in  the  night.  The 
golden  head-dress  gave  her  hair  the  color  of  copper  beech 
leaves,  and  the  gleam  of  the  metal  so  close  to  the  face  made 
her  complexion  transparent,  as  if  a  light  were  shining  through 
a  thin  sheet  of  mother-o '-pearl. 

When  I  found  that  she  was  determined,  I  told  her  that  I 
would  go,  rather  than  she  should  run  the  risk  alone;  but  she 


She  looked,  for  all  the  world,  like  a  beautiful  Frisian  girl 


PHYLLIS    RIVERS'    POINT   OF   VIEW       289 

only  laughed,  and  said  there  was  no  risk.  Even  if  our  skipper 
were  right  about  foreigners,  surely  two  Frisian  girls  of  the 
lower  classes  might  walk  about  at  the  fair,  when  the  best  fun 
was  going  on ;  we  should  find  plenty  of  others  exactly  like  our 
selves.  And  when  I'd  tried  the  helmet  on  before  the  mirror,  I 
could  not  resist  wishing  that  Mr.  van  Buren  might  have  seen 
it  —  simply  to  amuse  him,  of  course. 

The  next  thing  was  to  steal  down-stairs  without  being  seen. 
We  wrapped  our  shawls  over  our  heads,  helmets  and  all;  but 
we  need  not  have  feared,  every  one  was  away  at  some  enter 
tainment  or  other,  and  we  did  not  meet  a  soul.  Once  outside 
the  hotel,  we  rearranged  the  shawls,  crossing  the  ends  behind 
our  waists,  and  Nell  said  that  it  did  not  matter  if  we  met  the 
whole  world  now.  As  we  should  not  have  to  open  our  mouths 
to  any  one,  and  betray  our  ignorance  of  Dutch,  there  would  be 
nothing  to  show  that  we  were  not  Frisian  girls. 

The  full  moon  was  just  coming  up  as  we  left  the  hotel^but 
when  we  had  turned  two  or  three  corners,  and  reached  the 
streets  where  the  Kermess  was  going  on,  there  was  such  a 
white  blaze  of  electricity  that  the  moon  and  her  pale  light  were 
swallowed  up.  In  the  dazzling  illumination,  the  booths  and 
merry-go-rounds,  and  carousels,  with  their  sparkling  decora 
tions  of  tinsel,  seemed  to  drip  gold  and  silver;  and  the  garlands 
and  trees  and  fountains  of  electric  light  scintillated  like  myriads 
of  diamonds. 

There  had  been  crowds  in  the  afternoon,  but  now  they 
were  five  times  as  dense.  The  brilliant,  open-air  cafes  were 
crammed,  and  the  band  in  each  one  was  playing  a  different 
air.  Everybody  was  laughing,  and  shouting  and  singing; 
the  people  had  thrown  away  their  Dutch  reserve,  and  even 
middle-aged  men  and  women  were  enjoying  themselves  like 
children. 

I  felt  self-conscious  and  guilty  at  first,  but  it  was  such  a  gay 
scene  that  nobody  could  help  getting  into  the  spirit  of  it;  and 


290  THE   CHAPERON 

just  as  Nell  had  prophesied,  there  were  plenty  of  Frisian  girls 
about,  in  gold  or  silver  helmets,  like  ours,  only  nobody  stared 
at  them  particularly,  and  everybody  did  stare  at  us. 

I  remarked  this  to  Nell,  and  the  fact  that  no  shawls  of  our 
sort  were  being  worn;  but  she  laughed  and  said  that  if  people 
stared  we  might  as  well  take  it  as  a  compliment ;  she  flattered 
herself  that  we  happened  to  be  looking  our  best. 

It  really  was  fun.  We  dared  not  buy  anything  on  account 
of  our  foreign  accent;  but  we  wandered  from  street  to  street, 
jostled  by  the  crowd,  stopping  in  front  of  the  gayest  booths, 
and  even  going  into  a  side-show  where  a  Javanese  man  was 
having  fits  to  please  the  audience.  Jonkheer  Brederode  had 
refused  to  take  us  in  the  afternoon,  when  we  had  shown  an 
interest  in  the  painting  which  advertised  the  Javanese  creature; 
but,  after  all,  the  fits  were  more  exciting  on  canvas  than  they 
were  inside  the  hot,  crowded  tent,  and  some  young  soldiers 
stared  at  us  so  much  that  we  were  glad  to  get  out. 

Next  door  was  the  most  gorgeous  carousel  I  ever  saw.  It 
was  spinning  round  under  a  red  plush  roof,  embroidered  with 
gold  and  sparkling  crystals,  and  festooned  with  silver  chains. 
To  the  strains  of  the  Dutch  national  air,  life-sized  elephants 
with  gilded  castles,  huge  giraffes,  alarming  lions,  terrific  tigers, 
beautiful  swans,  and  Sedan  chairs  were  whirling  madly,  with 
great  effect  of  glitter  and  gaiety. 

"All  my  life  I've  wanted  to  ride  in  a  merry-go-round,"  said 
Nell,  "and  I  never  have.  Now's  our  one  chance.  There's  a 
Spanish  bull  and  a  Polar  bear  to  let.  Come  on." 

She  seized  my  hand,  and  before  I  realized  what  we  were 
doing,  I  was  sitting  on  a  large  bull,  wildly  clinging  to  its  horns, 
while  Nell,  just  in  front,  perched  on  the  back  of  a  sly-looking 
white  bear. 

No  sooner  were  we  settled  than  the  four  young  soldiers 
who  had  stared  in  the  fit-man's  tent,  jumped  on  some  other 
animals  in  the  procession,  and  as  we  began  to  fly  round  the  big 


PHYLLIS    RIVERS'    POINT   OF   VIEW       291 

ring,  they  called  out  and  waved  their  hands  as  if  they  were 
friends  of  ours.  I  was  afraid  they  must  have  followed  us  out 
of  the  tent,  and  I  could  understand  enough  Dutch  to  know  that 
they  were  saying  things  about  our  looks.  Every  one  in  the 
crowd  laughed  and  encouraged  them,,  and  several  people 
standing  by  to  watch,  spoke  to  Nell  and  me  as  we  whirled. 

It  was  an  awful  situation.  What  with  the  embarrassment, 
the  shame,  the  horrid  consciousness  of  being  part  of  the  show, 
and  the  giddiness  that  came  over  me  with  the  motion,  it  was 
all  I  could  do  to  keep  from  crying.  But  if  I  had  sobbed  while 
spinning  round  the  ring  on  the  back  of  a  bull,  I  should  have 
been  a  more  conspicuous  figure  than  ever,  so  I  controlled  my 
self  with  all  my  might.  Oh,  if  only  I  could  have  got  down,  to 
run  away  and  hide !  but  there  we  both  had  to  sit  till  time  for 
the  merry-go-round  to  stop,  and  I  would  have  given  all  that's 
left  of  the  two  hundred  pounds  Captain  Noble  willed  me,  to 
make  the  horrid  machinery  break  down. 

As  we  sailed  round  and  round  my  agonized  eyes  caught  the 
surprised  gaze  of  a  man  I  knew.  For  an  instant  I  could  not  re 
member  how,  or  where,  or  how  much  I  knew  him ;  but  suddenly 
it  all  came  back.  I  recognized  Sir  Alexander  MacNairne,  whose 
acquaintance  we  made  in  Amsterdam,  through  Tibe,  and  the 
worst  thing  was  that,  from  the  expression  of  his  face,  I  was 
almost  sure  he  recognized  us  both,  in  spite  of  our  disguise. 

By  this  time,  the  sitting  on  the  bull,  and  the  continued 
whirling  at  the  mercy  of  a  thousand  eyes,  began  to  seem  a 
torture  such  as  might  have  been  inflicted  by  the  Inquisition  if 
you  had  argued  with  them  about  some  little  thing.  I'm  sure, 
if  any  one  had  sprung  forward  at  this  moment  to  tell  me 
that  if  I  would  become  a  Dissenter  of  any  kind,  or  belong 
to  the  Salvation  Army,  I  needn't  be  a  martyr  any  longer,  but 
should  be  saved  at  once,  I  would  have  screamed  "Yes  —  yes 
-  yes !  " 

At  last  the  animals  did  slow  down,  and  Nell  and  I  slid  off 


292  THE   CHAPERON 

bur  monsters  before  they  had  stopped ;  but  instead  of  improv 
ing  our  situation,  we  had  made  it  worse. 

While  we  had  been  sailing  round  the  ring,  no  one  could 
approach  disagreeably  near.  The  minute  we  tried  to  mingle 
with  the  crowd  and  disappear  in  it,  however,  the  impudent 
young  soldiers  mingled  too,  having  the  evident  intention  of 
disappearing  with  us. 

The  things  that  happened  next,  happened  so  quickly,  one 
after  the  other,  that  they  are  still  confused  in  my  memory.  At 
the  time  I  knew  only  that  the  soldiers  were  following  and 
surrounding  Nell  and  me;  that  my  heart  was  beating  fast,  that 
her  cheeks  were  scarlet  and  her  eyes  very  large  and  bright, 
either  with  fear  or  anger,  or  both;  that  I  felt  an  arm  go  round 
my  waist,  and  a  man's  rather  beery  breath  close  to  my  ear; 
that  I  cried  "Oh !"  that  rude  girls  were  laughing;  and  then  that 
Nell  was  boxing  a  man's  ears.  I  am  not  even  quite  sure  that 
everything  was  in  this  exact  order!  but  just  as  I  heard  that 
sound  of  "smack  —  smack,"  I  saw  Sir  Alexander  MacNairne 
not  far  off,  and  without  stopping  to  remember  that  we  were 
supposed  to  be  Frisian  peasant  girls,  I  called  to  him.  I  think 
I  said,  "Oh,  Sir  Alexander  MacNairne,  come  —  please  come !" 

With  that,  he  began  to  knock  people  about,  and  break  a 
path  through  to  get  to  us;  and  some  of  them  laughed,  and 
some  were  angry.  Even  in  those  few  seconds  I  could  see  that 
he  was  a  hot-tempered  man,  and  that  the  laughs  made  him 
furious.  He  said  things  in  English,  with  just  the  faintest 
Scotch  "burr";  and  as  there  were  no  Dutchmen  of  Mr.  van 
Buren's  type  in  the  rude  crowd,  the  Scotsman  had  soon  tum 
bled  the  men  about  like  ninepins  —  all  except  the  soldiers  — 
and  got  close  to  us. 

But  the  soldiers  were  not  to  be  thrown  off  so  easily,  even 
by  such  a  big  man  as  Sir  Alexander  MacNairne,  and  Nell  and 
I  would  have  been  in  all  the  horrors  of  a  fight  —  a  fight  on  our 
account,  too  —  if  Jonkheer  Brederode  had  not  appeared  in  the 


PHYLLIS   RIVERS'   POINT   OF   VIEW       293 

midst,  as  suddenly  and  unexpectedly  as  if  he  had  dropped 
from  the  round,  full  moon. 

He  must  have  come  from  behind  me,  and  my  mouth  was 
open  to  exclaim  how  thankful  I  was  to  see  him,  when  he  has 
tily  whispered,  just  loud  enough  for  Nell  and  me  to  hear, 
"Don't  seem  to  know  me."  Then  he  began  talking  authori 
tatively  in  Dutch  to  the  young  soldiers,  looking  so  stern  and 
formidable  that  it  was  no  wonder  the  fun  died  out  of  their 
faces  (they  were  mere  boys,  all  four),  and  they  shrank  away 
from  Nell  and  me  as  if  we  had  been  hot  coals  which  had  burnt 
them  when  they  touched  us. 

When  Jonkheer  Brederode  first  dashed  to  our  rescue,  Sir 
Alexander  MacNairne  had  been  extremely  busy  with  two  of 
the  little  soldiers,  but  overawed  by  their  countryman's  dis 
tinguished  manner  and  severe  words,  they  lost  their  desire  to 
fight  and  sheepishly  joined  their  companions.  This  gave  Sir 
Alexander  a  chance  to  see  to  whom  he  owed  the  diversion, 
and  to  my  surprise  he  exclaimed,  "Rudolph  Brederode !" 

He  did  not  speak  the  name  as  if  he  were  pleased,  but 
uttered  it  quite  fiercely.  His  good-looking  face  grew  red,  and 
his  blue  eyes  sparkled  with  anger.  I  was  astonished,  for 
neither  Nell  nor  I  had  any  idea  that  they  knew  each  other; 
and  I  was  still  more  startled,  and  horrified  as  well,  to  see  Sir 
Alexander  make  a  spring  toward  Jonkheer  Brederode,  as  if 
he  meant  to  strike  him. 

Our  skipper  stood  perfectly  still,  looking  at  him,  though 
Sir  Alexander's  arm  was  raised  as  if  in  menace;  but  at  that 
instant  the  lifted  hand  was  seized,  and  the  arm  was  moved  up 
and  down  rapidly,  as  if  it  were  a  stiff  pump-handle  that  needed 
oiling. 

It  was  Mr.  Starr  who  had  seized  it,  and  began  to  shake  it 
so  furiously.  Before  the  tall  Scotsman  had  time  to  understand 
what  was  happening,  Mr.  Starr  had  wheeled  him  round  so 
that  his  back  was  turned  toward  us,  and  I  heard  the  nice 


294  THE   CHAPERON 

American  voice  exclaiming,  "How  do  you  do  ?  Never  had  such 
a  surprise.  Where's  your  wife  ?" 

"Where's  my  wife  ?  That's  what  I  mean  to  ask  Brede  - 
Sir  Alexander  had  begun,  struggling  to  get  his  hand  out  of 
Mr.  Starr's  cordial  clasp.  But  before  I  could  hear  the  end  of 
the  word,  much  less  the  first  syllable  of  another,  Jonkheer 
Brederode  was  hustling  Nell  and  me,  out  of  sight  of  the  others, 
round  the  carousel. 

"Come  with  me,  and  get  out  of  this,  quickly,"  he  said,  but 
not  in  a  scolding  tone,  such  as  I  had  dreaded  when  he  dis 
covered  us  in  such  a  shocking  situation  brought  on  by  our  own 
folly. 

I  was  dying  to  ask  questions,  but  of  course  I  did  not  dare; 
and  though  I  was  afraid  at  first  that  Nell  would  resist,  she  was 
as  meek  as  a  sugar  lamb. 

The  motive  seemed  very  mysterious,  but  I  couldn't  help 
fancying  it  was  on  Sir  Alexander  MacNairne's  account  that 
Jonkheer  Brederode  had  wished  us  not  to  recognize  him; 
still  I  could  not  think  why.  When  we  had  talked  about  Sir 
Alexander  MacNairne  the  other  day  at  Amsterdam,  the  Jonk 
heer  said  nothing  about  their  acquaintance.  I  wondered  if 
there  had  been  a  quarrel,  and  if  so,  what  it  could  have  been 
about,  though  it  was  certainly  no  affair  of  mine.  Still,  it  is 
hard  to  control  one's  thoughts;  and  I  wondered  more  and 
more  as  Jonkheer  Brederode  hurried  Nell  and  me  back  to  the 
hotel,  not  by  the  short  way  we  had  taken  before,  but  dodging 
about  through  a  dozen  intricate  streets  as  if  he  were  anxious  to 
give  trouble  to  any  one  who  might  be  following.  Our  skipper 
seemed  preoccupied,  too,  which  was  a  good  thing  for  us,  as  it 
took  his  mind  off  our  crimes.  As  it  was,  he  actually  made  no 
allusion  to  our  strange  costume,  our  escapade,  or  even  the 
hateful  adventure  from  which  he  had  rescued  us  —  for  that 
he  had  rescued  us  there  was  no  question.  Sir  Alexander  Mac 
Nairne,  with  his  quick  temper,  and  his  ignorance  of  the 


PHYLLIS   RIVERS*   POINT   OF  VIEW       295 

Dutch  character  as  well  as  the  Dutch  language,  and  the  priv 
ileges  of  Kermess  week,  was  making  matters  worse  for  us, 
instead  of  better,  when  Jonkheer  Brederode  dashed  in  and 
saved  the  situation.  What  would  have  happened  if  he  hadn't 
come,  I  dared  not  think,  for  there  would  certainly  have  been 
a  fight,  and  Nell  and  I  might  presently  have  found  ourselves, 
with  Sir  Alexander  MacNairne,  in  the  hands  of  the  police. 

The  skipper  might  easily  have  enlarged  on  this,  and  pointed 
a  moral  lesson,  but  not  a  word  did  he  say  about  anything  that 
had  happened.  Maybe,  this  humiliated  us  even  more  than  if 
he  had  scolded,  for  his  silence  was  very  marked,  and  he  ap 
peared  to  take  not  the  slightest  interest  in  either  of  us,  except 
to  get  us  indoors,  where  we  could  do  no  further  mischief. 
His  manner  was  cold ;  and  whether  this  arose  from  his  strange 
preoccupation,  or  from  annoyance  with  us,  I  couldn't  decide. 
In  either  case,  I  was  thankful  when  we  were  in  our  room,  and 
had  taken  off  our  shawls  and  the  beautiful  helmets  which  now 
I  detested. 

But  we  had  not  had  time  to  undress,  when  there  was  a 
knock  at  the  door.  Nell  opened  it,  and  there  stood  Lady 
MacNairne,  in  a  dressing-gown,  with  a  veil  wrapped  over  her 
head  —  perhaps  to  hide  curling-pins.  I  thought  that  Jonkheer 
Brederode  must  have  roused  her  up  to  report  our  crimes,  and 
sent  her  to  show  us  the  error  of  our  ways,  though  to  do  such  a 
thing  was  unlike  him.  But  her  first  words  proved  that  I  had 
misjudged  our  poor  skipper. 

"Girls,"  she  said,  "could  you  be  ready  to  leave  the  hotel 
and  go  on  board  *  Lorelei '  -  —  good  gracious,  I  mean  *  Mas- 
cotte' !  —  in  a  quarter  of  an  hour  ?" 

I  almost  thought  she  must  be  talking  in  her  sleep. 

"Why,  Lady  MacNairne!"  I  exclaimed,  "it's  half-past 
eleven." 

"I  know,"  said  she.  "All  the  more  reason  for  haste.  I'm 
not  joking.  There's  a  reason  why  we  ought  to  be  off  at  once.  Of 


296  THE   CHAPERON 

course,  'Mascotte'  is  your  boat,  dear  Nell,  and  it's  your  trip. 
But  you  and  Phyllis  are  so  kind  to  me  always,  that  I'm  sure 
you'll  consent  without  asking  for  more  explanations,  won't 
you,  when  I  say  that  it's  for  my  sake,  and  to  save  a  lot  of 
bother." 

When  Lady  MacNairne  wants  anybody  to  do  anything  for 
her,  she  makes  herself  perfectly  irresistible.  I  don't  know  at 
all  how,  but  I  only  wish  I  had  the  art  of  doing  it.  Sometimes 
she  is  domineering  —  if  it's  a  man  to  be  managed  —  or  even 
cross;  sometimes  she  is  soft  as  a  dove;  but  whichever  it  is, 
you  feel  as  if  streams  of  magnetic  fluid  poured  out  of  the  tips 
of  her  fingers  all  over  you,  and  your  one  anxiety  is  to  do  what 
she  wants  you  to  do,  as  quickly  as  possible. 

It  was  like  that  with  Nell  and  me,  now.  We  said,  both  to 
gether,  that  we  wouldn't  be  ten  minutes,  and  we  weren't. 
But  in  spite  of  the  wild  speed  with  which  we  flung  together 
the  few  things  we  had  unpacked,  and  in  spite  of  the  fact  that 
we  were  dressed,  except  for  our  hats,  while  Lady  MacNairne 
was  in  her  wrapper,  she  was  ready  before  us. 

We  were  to  meet  in  her  room,  and  just  as  we  arrived, 
dressing-bags  in  hand  —  for  it  was  not  a  time  of  night  to  ring 
for  porters  —  Mr.  Starr  appeared  round  a  turn  of  the  corridor. 
He  didn't  see  us  at  first,  but  began  to  say  something  to  his 
aunt  about  a  "narrow  shave,"  when  he  caught  sight  of  Nell 
and  me  inside  the  open  door. 

I  was  on  the  point  of  asking  him  what  had  become  of  Sir 
Alexander  MacNairne,  with  whom  we  had  left  him  violently 
shaking  hands,  when  I  remembered  that  Lady  MacNairne 
had  said  he  was  a  "relation  of  hers  by  marriage,"  so  I  thought, 
since  there  was  evidently  trouble  of  some  sort  between  him 
and  Jonkheer  Brederode,  I  had  better  not  bring  up  the  sub 
ject  in  her  presence.  Whatever  might  be  the  mysterious  reason 
which  was  taking  us  away  like  thieves  in  the  night,  Mr.  Starr 
had  the  air  of  knowing  it  —  as  he  naturally  would,  since  Lady 


PHYLLIS   RIVERS5   POINT   OF   VIEW       297 

MacNairne  was  his  aunt;  but  no  matter  which  of  the  other 
two  men  was  to  blame,  I  was  sure  he  was  innocent.  He  was 
as  nice  and  helpful,  too,  about  carrying  down  all  our  things,  as 
if  it  were  his  interest  instead  of  the  others',  to  get  us  out  of  the 
hotel  and  on  to  the  boat,  although  he  is  such  a  lazy,  erratic 
young  man,  that  he  must  have  been  quite  upset  by  the  sur 
prise  and  confusion. 

Jonkheer  Brederode  had  been  down-stairs,  paying  our  bills 
and  settling  up  with  the  landlady,  who  seemed  to  be  the  only 
person  not  at  the  Kermess.  As  we  all  walked  toward  him,  to 
show  that  we  were  ready  to  start,  I  caught  a  few  words  which 
the  landlady  was  saying.  I  am  not  yet  sure  of  getting  things 
right  in  Dutch,  but  it  did  sound  as  if  she  said  in  reply  to  some 
question  or  order  of  his,  "Rely  on  me.  No  such  impertinent 
demand  shall  be  answered." 

A  stuffy  cab,  which  might  have  been  fifty  years  old,  had,  it 
seemed,  been  called  by  Mr.  Starr,  who  was  as  sympathetic  as 
usual  in  the  dilemmas  of  others.  We  squeezed  in,  anyhow, 
except  Jonkheer  Brederode,  who  sat  on  the  box  to  tell  the 
driver  how  to  go,  his  cap  pulled  over  his  eyes,  as  if  it  were 
pouring  with  rain,  instead  of  being  the  most  brilliant  moon 
light  night;  and  Tibe  sat  on  all  our  laps  at  once. 

Hendrik  and  Toon  sleep  on  "Mascotte"  and  "Waterspin," 
and  they  were  on  board,  true  to  duty,  though  if  they  had  been 
anything  but  Dutchmen,  they  would  probably  have  sneaked 
slyly  off  to  the  Kermess.  They  are  not  the  sort  of  persons  who 
show  surprise  at  anything  (Nell  says  that  if  the  motor  burst 
under  Hendrik's  nose,  he  would  simply  rub  it  with  a  piece  of 
cotton  waste  —  his  nose  or  the  motor,  it  would  not  much 
matter  which  —  and  go  on  with  what  he  had  been  doing 
before) ;  so  no  time  was  lost,  and  in  ten  minutes  we  were  off, 
finding  our  way  by  the  clear  moonlight,  as  easily  as  if  it  had 
been  day. 

We  had  not  gone  far,  when  I  spied  another  motor-boat, 


298  THE   CHAPERON 

larger  than  ours,  but  not  so  smart,  in  harbor,  and  I  stared 
with  all  my  eyes,  trying  to  make  out  her  name,  for  she  had  not 
been  there  when  we  came  in;  but  "Mascotte"  flew  by  like  a 
bird  —  much  faster  than  she  ever  goes  by  day,  in  the  water- 
traffic,  and  I  could  not  see  it. 

Everything  was  much  too  exciting  for  us  to  wish  to  sleep, 
though  had  we  stopped  quietly  in  the  hotel,  we  should  have 
been  in  bed  before  this.  Jonkheer  Brederode  advised  us  to  go 
below,  as  the  air  was  chilly  on  the  water,  and  such  a  wind  had 
come  up  that  it  blew  away  two  cushions  from  our  deck-chairs. 
But  we  would  not  be  persuaded. 

Out  of  the  narrow  canal  we  slid,  into  a  wide  expanse  of 
water,  cold  as  liquid  steel  under  the  moon,  and  tossed  into 
little  sharp-edged  waves  which  sent  "Mascotte"  rolling  from 
side  to  side,  so  choppily  that  I  was  glad  to  get  into  the  next 
canal,  even  narrower  than  the  first,  such  a  mere  slip  of  water 
that  cows  on  shore,  vague,  shadowy,  shapes,  puffed  clouds  of 
clover-sweet  breath  in  our  faces  as  we  leaned  toward  them 
from  the  deck. 

The  windows  of  little  thatched  cottages  seemed  to  look 
straight  into  our  cabin  windows,  like  curiously  glinting,  wake 
ful  eyes ;  and  Jonkheer  Brederode  said  that,  by  daylight  when 
the  canal  was  crowded  with  barges  and  lighters,  it  needed  al 
most  as  much  skill  and  patience  to  steer  through  it,  as  to  guide 
a  motor-car  through  Piccadilly  in  the  height  of  the  season. 

It  took  bribery  and  corruption,  I'm  afraid,  to  get  the  sluice 
gates  opened  for  us  in  the  middle  of  the  night;  and  Jonkheer 
Brederode  had  his  Club  flag  flying,  in  case  any  one  proved 
obstinate.  But  no  one  did,  so  perhaps  —  as  people  are  sup 
posed  to  be  quite  the  opposite  of  their  real  selves  in  disposition, 
if  waked  suddenly  —  Frisians  are  weak  and  yielding  if  roused 
in  the  night. 

It  was  wonderful  to  see  the  moonlight  fading  into  dawn, 
over  the  canal,  and  the  gentle,  indistinct  landscape,  and  I 


PHYLLIS    RIVERS'   POINT   OF   VIEW       299 

wished  that  Mr.  van  Buren  could  have  been  with  us,  as  I  am 
sure  it  was  the  kind  of  thing  which  would  have  appealed  to  his 
heart  —  especially  if  Freule  Menela  were  not  with  him,  to 
hold  him  down  to  earth. 

Morning  was  clear  in  the  sky  when  we  came  to  Groningen, 
and  we  were  not  in  the  least  tired,  though  we  had  not  even 
tried  to  doze.  At  a  nice  hotel,  called  by  the  odd  name  of  the 
" Seven  Provinces,"  where  Jonkheer  Brederode  had  arranged 
for  us  to  stop  a  night  if  our  plans  had  not  been  suddenly 
changed,  there  was  a  telegram  for  Nell.  It  was  from  Mr.  van 
Buren,  and  said,  "Can  I  bring  fiancee  and  sisters  to  spend  a 
day  with  you  at  Utrecht  ?  Answer,  Robert  van  B.,  Scheven- 
ingen." 

Of  course,  one  word  costs  less  than  two,  and  is  therefore 
wiser  to  use  in  a  telegram.  Besides,  she  is  his  fiancee.  But  it 
looked  so  irrevocable,  staring  up  from  the  paper,  that  I  felt 
more  sorry  for  him  than  ever.  I  was  a  little  excited,  too,  as 
Nell  was  wiring  back  "Yes,  delighted,"  and  adding  the  date  on 
which  we  expected  to  arrive  at  Utrecht.  I  am  excited  still,  as 
I  write  this;  for  I  have  the  idea  that  Freule  Menela  was  angry 
with  Mr.  van  Buren  for  spending  so  much  time  with  us,  and 
that  she  wants  to  punish  him  —  or  somebody  else. 


RONALD  LESTER  STARR'S  POINT  OF  VIEW 
XXVII 

I  SHOULD  think  few  men  ever  loved  more  passionately, 
yet  picturesquely,  than  I  loved  those  two  beautiful  step 
sisters  when  for  their  sakes  I  started  out  upon  a  crimi 
nal,  motor-boating  career. 

To  have  their  society,  to  gaze  daily  upon  their  lovely  faces, 
to  hear  their  charming  voices,  and  to  find  out  which  girl  I 
really  loved  more  than  the  other,  I  willingly  stole  an  aunt  and 
then  lied  about  her  so  often,  that  eventually  I  almost  began  to 
believe  she  was  my  aunt.  Perhaps  —  I  said  to  myself,  when 
any  barking  dogs  escaped  from  the  kennel  of  my  conscience  to 
be  soothed  —  perhaps  she  had  been  my  aunt  in  another  state 
of  existence.  But  then,  I  would  have  said  anything  about  her, 
to  myself  or  others,  by  way  of  furthering  the  cause;  and  the 
game  was  well  worth  the  candle  —  for  the  first  part  of  the  trip. 

Alb  being  frankly  and  openly  a  worshiper  of  the  adorable 
Nell  Van  Buren,  my  own  countrywoman,  I  saw  that,  out  of  all 
the  girls  I  ever  loved,  including  her  stepsister,  she  was  the 
only  one  it  would  be  impossible  for  me  to  live  without. 

That  state  of  mind  lasted  up  to  the  night  when  we  arrived 
at  the  deadest  of  all  Dead  Cities  of  the  Zuider  Zee,  Enkhuisen. 
There  it  broke  upon  me  out  of  a  clear  sky  that  my  Burne- 
Jones  angel,  Phyllis  Rivers,  loved  and  was  loved  by,  another; 
that  other,  a  graven  image  of  a  Viking,  who  could  never  ap 
preciate  her  as  she  deserved. 

Until  the  blow  fell,  I  had  always,  half  unconsciously,  felt 
that  she  was  there;  that  if  I  lost  the  incomparable  Nell,  the 

301 


302  THE    CHAPERON 

exquisite  Phyllis  was  on  the  spot  to  console  me;  and  she  is  at 
her  best  as  a  consoler.  But  suddenly,  at  a  moment  when  I  was 
soaked  with  rain,  snubbed  by  Nell,  as  well  as  foolishly  con 
cerned  about  the  fate  of  that  white  man's  burden,  my  Alba 
tross,  and  altogether  ill-fitted  to  bear  further  misfortunes,  I 
learnt  that  Phyllis  regarded  me  as  a  brother. 

I  hid  my  chagrin  in  sympathy  for  hers,  but  Phyllis  in  tears 
proved  distracting.  She  is  the  one  girl  I  have  ever  seen  who 
can  cry  without  a  deplorable  redness  of  the  nose.  Tears  rolled 
like  pearls  over  her  lower  lashes,  which  are  almost  as  long  as 
the  fringe  of  the  upper  lids,  and  I  wondered  how  I  could  ever 
have  thought  another  girl  more  desirable.  Too  late  for  my 
comfort  did  she  assure  me  that,  in  her  opinion,  my  case  was 
not  hopeless  with  her  stepsister.  It  was  Phyllis,  not  Nell, 
whom  I  now  wished  to  snatch  from  the  arms  of  a  hated  rival 
(not  that  she  was  in  them  yet,  but  she  might  be  at  any  minute 
unless  I  secured  her)  and  it  was  painful  that  at  such  a  crisis 
she  should  throw  her  once  unattainable  stepsister  at  my  head. 

Next  day,  to  be  sure,  when  Alb  brought  the  motor-boat  to 
our  rescue  at  Urk,  the  way  Nell's  big  hazel  eyes  lit  up  at  sight 
of  him,  set  my  heart  vibrating  again  like  a  pendulum,  and  I 
found  myself  much  in  the  same  condition  I  had  been  in  at 
first;  unable  to  decide  which,  after  all,  was  the  more  indis 
pensable  of  the  two  girls.  But  this  return  to  chaos  did  not 
make  for  peace  of  mind,  because,  though  I  could  not  bear  to 
lose  either,  I  should  be  lucky  if  I  contrived  to  keep  one.  Be 
sides,  there  was  the  worry  about  Sir  Alec  MacNairne,  and 
the  danger  that  he  might  pounce  down  upon  us  to  destroy  the 
fabric  I  had  so  carefully  woven. 

Altogether,  the  features  of  Friesland  were  not  cut  with  the 
same  cameo-clearness  upon  my  perception  that  other  parts  of 
Holland  had  taken  a  few  weeks  or  even  days  ago,  when  I  was 
young  and  happy. 

As  I  remarked  early  in  our  black  partnership,  even  an 


RONALD  LESTER  STARR'S  POINT  OF  VIEW  303 

Albatross  can  have  its  uses.  Perhaps,  if  the  truth  were  known, 
the  Ancient  Mariner  occasionally  fell  down  and  would  have 
broken  a  bone  if  the  Albatross,  tied  round  his  neck,  had  not 
acted  as  a  kind  of  cushion  for  his  protection.  At  Amsterdam, 
in  a  moment  of  peril  for  our  plot.  Alb  acted  somewhat  in  this 
capacity  for  me,  showing  himself  to  be  possessed  of  all  that 
shrewd  adroitness  which  should  furnish  the  equipment  of 
every  well-regulated  villain.  At  Leeuwarden,  therefore,  it  was 
for  me  to  do  something  desperate  when  desperate  need  arose. 

I  shall  never  cease  to  applaud  my  own  presence  of  mind  in 
the  matter  of  turning  the  enemy's  flank.  My  wrists  were  lame 
for  days  after  that  famous  handshake  with  Aunt  Fay's  hus 
band  which,  in  his  surprise,  spun  the  big  fellow  round  like  a 
teetotum,  and  gave  Alb  a  chance  to  vanish  with  the  girls. 

If  Aunt  Fay  had  indeed  been  on  board  "Lorelei,"  re-named 
"Mascotte";  if  the  "M.,"  late  "L.,"  had  been  Brederode's  boat, 
and  he  had  really  been  flirting  with  my  aunt  through  the  water 
ways  of  Holland,  according  to  Sir  Alec's  wild  impression,  I 
couldn't  have  been  more  anxious  to  save  her  from  his  jealous 
wrath  by  giving  him  the  slip. 

Alb  had  never  spoken  of  a  flirtation,  and  though,  at  the 
time  it  was  first  sprung  upon  me  by  Sir  Alec,  I  was  angry  with 
the  Albatross  for  his  close-mouthedness,  my  inconvenient 
sense  of  justice  forced  me  to  admit  afterwards  that  it  wasn't 
exactly  the  kind  of  thing  he  could  have  confided  to  me  of  all 
others. 

When  that  peppery  Scotsman  opened  his  heart,  and  poured 
forth  the  true  story  of  Aunt  Fay's  mysterious  disappearance 
from  the  scene,  for  a  minute  or  two  any  feather  floating  in  my 
direction  could  have  knocked  me  down ;  but  I  hung  on  to  my 
captive  uncle  all  the  same,  while  I  rearranged  my  ideas  of  the 
universe  at  large,  and  my  corner  of  it  in  particular. 

I  told  him  it  was  nonsense  to  be  jealous  of  Aunt  Fay.  Of 
course  such  a  pretty,  jolly  woman  as  she,  full  of  life  and  fun  as 


304  THE   CHAPERON 

a  girl,  was  bound  to  be  popular  with  men,  and  to  flirt  with 
them  a  little.  There  was  nothing  in  that  to  make  a  fuss  about, 
said  I.  As  for  Bred  erode  (whom  I  had  to  admit  knowing,  since 
we  must  have  been  seen  together)  I  assured  Sir  Alec  that,  if  he 
could  hear  Rudolph  talk  in  a  friendly  way  about  my  aunt,  he 
wouldn't  have  the  slightest  uneasiness.  Finally  I  made  the 
fiery  fellow  confess  that  Aunt  Fay's  last  little  flirtation  —  the 
most  innocent  in  the  world,  like  all  her  "affairs"  •  -was  not 
with  Bred  erode  but  with  an  Englishman,  an  officer  in  some 
crack  regiment.  Sir  Alec  did  not  deny  that  he  had  scolded 
his  wife.  He  said  that  she  had  "answered  him  back,"  that 
there  had  been  "words"  on  both  sides,  that  she  had  stamped 
her  foot  and  thrown  a  bunch  of  roses  at  him  —  middle-aged, 
wet-footed  roses  snatched  from  a  vase  which  happened  to  be 
handy.  That  he  had  called  her  a  minx;  that  she  had  retorted 
with  "beast";  that  he  had  stalked  out  of  the  room  and  then  out 
of  the  house,  slamming  doors  as  hard  as  he  could ;  that  when 
he  returned,  not  exactly  to  apologize,  but  to  make  up  at  any 
price,  it  was  to  find  her  gone,  with  her  maid  and  several  boxes, 
leaving  no  address;  that  he  had  tracked  her  to  London,  and 
eventually  —  as  he  believed  —  to  Paris ;  that  while  there  he 
had  seen  a  newspaper  paragraph  announcing  that  Lady  Mac- 
Nairne  was  traveling  through  Dutch  waterways  on  a  motor- 
boat  belonging  to  Jonkheer  Bred  erode;  that  he  had  taken 
train  for  Amsterdam,  where  he  had  presently  discovered  that 
"Lorelei"  had  been;  that  he  had  visited  all  hotels,  hoping  to 
find  the  names  of  the  party  in  the  visitors'  book,  but  had  not 
been  able  to  discover  them  (luckily  we  hadn't  put  our  names 
down,  and  on  leaving  Alb  had  tactfully  hinted  to  the  manager 
that  no  inquiries  concerning  us  were  to  be  answered);  that 
since  then  all  trace  of  "Lorelei "  had  been  lost. 

I  replied  that  it  was  probably  a  mistake  made  by  some 
journalist,  and  that  Lady  MacNairne  had  never  been  on 
board  Brederode's  boat.  I  was  going  on  to  say  more  things, 


RONALD  LESTER  STARR'S  POINT  OP  VIEW  305 

when  Sir  Alec  exclaimed,  "Why,  you  ought  to  know  where 
the  boat  is,  and  who's  on  board  her.  You  and  Brederode 
were  together  to-night,  and ' 

"We  hadn't  been  together  for  ten  minutes,"  I  vowed;  and 
kept  to  the  strict  letter  of  the  truth,  for  I  had  been  smoking 
alone  in  the  garden  when  Brederode  came  back  and  proposed 
that  after  all  we  should  have  a  stroll  round  the  fair.  It  hadn't 
taken  us  ten  minutes  to  get  there  from  the  hotel. 

"I  didn't  ask  Brederode  any  questions  about  himself  after 
meeting  him,"  I  went  on;  and  that  also  was  strictly  true. 
"But,"  I  hurriedly  added,  seeing  a  loophole  of  escape,  "I 
can  look  him  up,  if  you  like,  and,  without  mentioning  your 
name,  find  out  whether  Aunt  Fay  is,  or  ever  has  been,  with 
his  party,  which  I  doubt.  Don't  you  think,  for  the  sake  of 
her  name  and  yours,  that  would  be  better  than  for  you  to  seek 
him  out  and  make  a  row,  before  you're  sure  whether  there's 
anything  to  row  about  ?" 

Sir  Alec  reflected  for  a  minute,  which  was  evidently  an 
effort,  then  answered  that  perhaps  I  was  right.  But  supposing 
I  missed  Brederode,  whose  haste  to  slip  away  went  far  to 
prove  his  guilt  ? 

I  would  not  miss  him,  said  I.  And  his  disappearance  proved 
nothing.  There  were  those  pretty  Frisian  girls  that  he  —  Sir 
Alec  —  had  been  protecting  when  Rudolph  and  I  came  along. 
Brederode  had  probably  escorted  them  home,  not  seeing  any 
reason  why  he  should  interrupt  our  conversation. 

My  innocent  surprise  on  hearing  that,  despite  their  cos 
tumes,  the  girls  were  not  Frisian  girls,  but  English  or  Ameri 
can  ladies  he  had  met  in  Amsterdam,  convinced  Sir  Alec 
that  they  were  strangers  to  me.  And  finally  the  scene  ended 
by  my  promising  to  find  Brederode,  who  was  certainly  —  I 
said  —  stopping  in  the  town,  whether  or  no  he  had  brought 
a  motor-boat  to  Leeu warden.  I  was  to  question  Brederode  in 
a  diplomatic  manner,  and  then  to  report  to  Sir  Alec,  on  a 


306  THE   CHAPERON 

motor-launch  he  had  hired  in  Amsterdam,  as  the  best  means 
of  tracking  down  the  craft  for  which  he  sought.  This  boat, 
"Wilhelmina,"  was  now  in  the  canal  at  Leeuwarden,  but,  for 
reasons  intimately  concerning  that  canal,  he  had  taken  a  room 
for  the  night  at  a  hotel  recommended  by  his  chauffeur. 

Fortunate  it  was  for  us  that  the  chauffeur  did  not  happen 
to  prefer  our  hotel ;  and  almost  equally  fortunate  that  Sir  Alec 
was  not  spending  much  time  on  board  his  hired  vessel,  for, 
were  he  lurking  there,  it  would  be  difficult  to  slip  past  without 
being  followed.  He  had  perhaps  seen  "Mascotte"  on  entering 
the  canal  (as  it  appeared  that  he  had  come  in  only  toward 
evening),  but  he  had  not  suspected  the  innocent-looking  little 
creature,  with  her  fat  chaperon,  "Waterspin,"  of  having  an 
alias.  If,  however,  a  motor-boat  attempted  to  glide  past  his  in 
the  night,  he  would  give  chase,  and  see  us  on  board  "Mascotte. " 
For  this  reason  I  was  delighted  to  hear  that  he  was  at  a 
hotel  for  the  night,  and  I  advised  him  to  go  there  at  once,  to 
await  my  coming. 

"How  long  shall  you  be  ?"  he  asked  impatiently. 

I  assured  him  that  all  I  had  to  do  might  keep  me  an  hour; 
but  I  saved  a  few  tattered  rags  of  conscience  by  evading  a 
verbal  promise  to  call  on  him  at  the  end  of  that  hour.  So  much 
he  took  for  granted;  and,  as  the  things  I  really  had  to  do  were 
to  get  the  whole  party  on  to  "Mascotte"  and  out  of  the  capital 
of  Friesland,  I  left  my  uncle-in-law  without  much  ceremony. 

Nothing  could  have  been  neater  than  the  way  we  gave  him 
the  slip,  flying  by  his  deserted  motor-boat  without  a  qualm, 
and,  I  hoped,  beyond  his  reach  at  the  same  time. 

Never,  during  the  whole  course  of  the  trip,  had  I  been  as 
glad  to  arrive  at  a  place  as  I  was  to  arrive  at  Groningen. 

We  ought,  according  to  the  program  of  our  itinerary  mapped 
out  by  Alb,  to  have  reached  the  big  town  in  the  afternoon  in 
stead  of  morning,  and  to  have  spent  the  time  till  evening  in 
seeing  sights.  But  all  was  changed  now.  Luckily  Alb  (who  is 


RONALD  LESTER  STARR'S  POINT  OF  VIEW  307 

an  uncomfortable  stickler  for  truth  at  all  costs)  could  consci 
entiously  inform  the  girls  that  Groningen's  principal  attrac 
tions  might  be  seen  in  a  couple  of  hours. 

We  tore  round  the  place  in  the  fastest  cab  to  be  got,  I  having 
bribed  the  driver  not  to  spare  his  horse;  yet  it  was  at  Alb 
the  girls  looked  reproachfully,  when  they  were  allowed  but 
three  minutes  in  the  largest  market-place  of  Holland,  five  for 
St.  Martin's  Church  and  the  organ  praised  by  diplomatic 
Erasmus,  two  to  search  vainly  for  diamond-gleaming  glass 
tiles  on  houses  which  Amici  admired  forty  years  ago;  and 
another  grudging  two  for  a  gallop  through  the  Noorden  Planta 
tion,  of  which  the  rich  town  is  proud.  There  must  be  some 
thing  about  my  appearance  which  convinces  people  that, 
whatever  evil  is  afoot,  I,  at  least,  am  innocent.  I  have  noticed 
this  since  boyhood,  the  phenomenon  being  most  conspicuous 
when  I  was  least  deserving;  whereas,  with  Alb,  it  is  the  other 
way  round.  His  darkly  handsome  face,  with  its  severely  clear- 
cut  features,  his  black  hair  and  brows,  his  somber  eyes,  are 
the  legitimate  qualifications  of  the  stage  villain.  Even  the  well- 
known  cigarette  is  seldom  lacking;  therefore,  if  I  wished  for 
revenge,  I  have  often  had  it.  When  I  am  to  blame  for  any 
thing,  Alb  is  sure  to  be  suspected. 

Indeed,  any  one  might  have  thought,  from  the  impatient 
fire  in  his  eyes,  as  he  steered  "Lorelei"  (alias  "Mascotte") 
through  the  canal  after  leaving  Groningen,  that  his  was  the 
secret  need  for  haste,  his  the  guilty  desire  to  escape. 

As  for  me,  I  hid  my  rage  at  the  legal  mandate  which  here 
compelled  us  to  "go  no  faster  than  a  man  can  walk."  Under 
an  air  of  blithe  insouciance  I  disguised  my  fears,  never  starting 
perceptibly  at  "any  toot"  behind  us  which  might  mean  Sir 
Alec  on  our  track,  and  appearing  to  enjoy  with  the  free  spirit 
of  a  boy,  the  one  great  amusement  of  the  day. 

This  consisted  in  surprising  and  making  happy  many 
families  of  children  on  board  the  lighters  we  passed,  by 


308  THE   CHAPERON 

bestowing  upon  them  toys  and  strange  sugary  cakes  bought 
.at  Leeuwarden  Kermess.  Not  all  the  lighters  had  children, 
but  those  that  had,  owned  dozens,  and  all  the  ugly  ones  had 
whooping-cough . 

If  I  had  been  given  my  way,  only  the  pretty  children  and 
those  who  did  not  whoop  should  have  got  presents;  but  the 
extraordinary  lady  who  plays  the  part  of  aunt  to  me,  and 
chaperon  to  the  Angels,  said  that  the  uglier  you  are,  the  more 
gifts  you  need.  Perhaps  it  is  on  this  principle  she  has  demand 
ed  so  many  from  me.  But  —  is  she  ugly  ?  I  hardly  know.  She 
has  one  of  those  strange  little  faces  which  do  not  seem  to  ex 
press  the  soul  behind  them  —  a  face  whose  features  I  can't 
see  when  I  shut  my  eyes.  I  should  like,  by  the  way,  to  know 
what  hers  are  like,  behind  her  big  blue  spectacles;  but  she 
says  they  are  not  strong,  so  possibly  the  blue  glass  is  a  merci 
ful  dispensation. 

Her  mildest  hints,  as  well  as  her  commands,  are  invariably 
acted  upon,  and  though  she  seldom  insists,  she  magnetizes. 
Accordingly,  the  ugliest  children  got  the  best  things;  but  as 
there  were  more  pretty  than  ugly  ones,  the  toys  lasted  all  the 
way  along  the  somewhat  monotonous  canal  to  Assen,  a  little 
town  half  lost  in  its  own  forests. 

It  took  us  till  evening  to  get  there,  and  as  we  were  to  sleep 
on  the  boats,  rather  than  risk  the  hotel,  I  proposed  to  Alb 
that  we  should  start  again  early  the  next  morning,  before 
the  ladies  waked.  "There  can't  be  much  to  see  at  Assen," 
said  I,  "and  if,  after  he'd  been  given  the  slip,  my  peppery 
Scotch  uncle  tumbled  to  the  idea  of  *  Lorelei'  and  *Mas- 
cotte '  being  one " 

"That  would  be  reason  enough  for  stopping  at  Assen," 
said  Brederode.  "There  are  things  to  see  there,  very  good 
and  unique  things;  but  ordinary  tourists  don't  often  hear 
about  them,  and  if  Sir  Alec  MacNairne  is  chasing  us,  he'll 
glide  by  Assen  without  a  thought." 


RONALD  LESTER  STARR'S  POINT  OF  VIEW  309 

This  put  a  different  face  on  the  matter,  and  I  was  able  to 
smile  calmly  when  Alb  whetted  the  Angels'  appetite  by  de 
scribing  the  treasures  concealed  among  the  groves  surround 
ing  Assen.  They  were  not  exactly  at  Assen,  it  seemed,  but 
Assen  was  the  starting-point,  and  from  there  you  set  forth 
in  carriages  to  Rolde,  for  the  purpose  of  gazing  upon  Hunne- 
betten. 

What  these  might  be,  when  you  found  them,  I  had  not  an 
idea,  though  pride  forbade  me  to  inquire  of  Alb,  especially 
before  the  girls.  But  pride  never  forbids  Aunt  Fay's  little 
counterfeit  presentment  (perhaps  it  will  save  time  if  in  the 
future  I  allude  to  her  as  the  L.C.P.)  to  ask  any  question. 
She  is  never  satisfied  with  guide-books,  but  demands  and 
absorbs  information  about  every  place  we  visit,  scribbling 
down  notes  in  the  book  she  wears  on  her  chatelaine.  (There 
must  have  been  dozens  of  "refills"  fitted  in  between  the  silver 
covers  since  we  started,  though  what  she  wants  of  the  stuff 
she  collects,  I  can't  imagine.)  She  did  not  hesitate  to  exclaim, 
"What  on  earth  are  Hunnebetten  ?"  And  there  was  no  igno 
miny  in  listening,  with  a  bored  air  of  having  been  born  knowing 
these  things,  while  Alb  described  the  objects  as  supposed 
graves  of  Huns,  built  of  glacier-borne  stones. 

Next  morning  we  drove  out  to  worship  at  these  ancient 
shrines,  winding  along  a  charming,  wooded  road,  through 
avenues  of  young  oaks,  balsamic  pine  forests,  and  acres  of 
purple  heather,  to  say  nothing  of  a  certain  pink  flower  which 
must  be  heather's  Dutch  cousin. 

Some  of  the  Hunnebetten  were  hidden  in  the  woods,  others 
rose  gloomily  out  of  the  sweet  simplicity  of  a  hayfield,  but 
each  contrived  to  give  the  effect  of  a  miniature  Stonehenge, 
and  had  there  been  only  one  monument  instead  of  three,  it 
would  have  been  worth  the  trouble  we  took  to  see  it.  Besides, 
our  expedition  was  rewarded  in  another  way.  When  we  re 
turned  to  the  boats  after  breakfasting  at  a  cafe  in  the  woods, 


310  THE   CHAPERON 

it  was  to  hear  that  a  motor-launch,  patriotically  bearing  the 
name  of  "Wilhelmina,"  had  gone  by,  faster  than  the  legal 
limit,  as  if  in  haste  to  reach  Meppel.  According  to  Hendrik 
and  Toon,  a  tall  gentleman  had  sprung  up  from  the  deck-chair 
rushed  to  the  rail,  and  stared  hard  at  "Mascotte";  but  "Wil 
helmina"  had  not  slowed  down. 

On  hearing  this  news,  I  was  inclined  to  make  an  excuse 
for  lingering  at  Assen;  but  Alb  was  of  opinion  that  it  would 
be  as  safe,  and  far  less  dull,  to  go  on.  "Wilhelmina"  was  well 
ahead;  and  in  any  case  we  did  not  mean  to  stop  the  night  at 
Meppel.  If  we  saw  Sir  Alec's  launch  there,  we  could  easily 
slip  past,  all  passengers  in  the  cabin  and  Hendrik  at  the  helm ; 
whereas,  if  we  did  not  see  her,  she  would  not  be  able  to  see  us. 

We  were  in  the  province  of  Drenthe  now,  and  it  looked  as 
little  Dutch  as  might  be.  Even  the  canal  had  the  air  of  dis 
guising  itself  as  the  Long  Water  as  Hampton  Court,  instead 
of  being  content  to  seem  what  it  was :  and  after  we  had  passed 
a  few  dignified  mansions  and  farmhouses,  we  came  to  a  region 
of  squalid  cottages  with  sullen-faced,  short-haired  women,  and 
children  shy  as  wild  creatures  of  the  wood,  staring  at  us  from 
low-browed  doorways.  It  was  not  until  we  were  far  on  our 
eight  hours'  journey  to  Meppel,  that  we  slipped  once  more 
into  a  characteristic  region  of  peace  and  plenty;  marching 
lines  of  dark  trees,  with  foregrounds  of  pink  and  azure  flowers, 
or  golden  grain;  mossy,  thatched  roofs,  and  red  tiles  crusted 
with  golden  lichen.  But  fortunately  for  the  disposal  of  our 
toy  supply,  renewed  at  Assen,  the  watery  way  was  starred 
with  red,  green,  and  blue  barges  inhabited  by  large  families  of 
violet-eyed,  tow-headed  infants.  If  by  chance  we  encountered 
a  childless  barge,  we  glared  resentment  at  the  grown-ups. 
What  were  they  thinking  of,  not  to  have  babies,  these  people  ? 

The  meadow-ringed  world  of  water  and  sky  was  all  charm 
and  grace  and  quaintness  again,  at  Meppel  and  beyond,  and 
I  was  in  a  mood  to  appreciate  its  beauty  there,  for  we  had  a 


RONALD  LESTER  STARR'S  POINT  OF  VIEW  311 

glimpse  of  "Wilhelmina"  in  harbor,  and  apparently  deserted. 
Passing  within  distant  sight  of  her  as  she  lay  in  harbor, 
Brederode  gaily  put  on  speed;  for  we  had  got  beyond  the 
u legal  limit"  obstructions  of  the  Drenthe  canal,  into  the 
freedom  of  the  Ober  Issel,  a  wide  glitter  of  water,  noble  as 
the  Frisian  meers  we  had  left. 

Never  was  there  an  evening  more  exquisite  than  this,  as 
we  floated  on  through  the  sunset,  with  the  old  town  of  Zwolle 
for  our  night  goal. 

We  were  in  the  Swarzermeer,  said  Brederode;  but  there 
was  nothing  black  about  it,  except  the  name.  Sky  and  water 
had  all  the  rich  colors  of  an  opal,  and  so  clear  were  they,  so 
alike  in  tints  and  brightness,  that  we  seemed  to  hang  in  the 
midst  of  a  rainbow  bubble. 

Yellow  water-lilies  lay  on  a  surface  of  glass,  like  scattered 
gold,  and  the  tall,  thin  grasses  were  gold-green  wires  in  the 
level  light  of  the  sun.  Each  village  we  passed  was  a  picture 
far  beyond  my  art  to  paint;  and  hayricks  under  their  thatches 
or  piles  of  corn  stacked  in  rows  close  to  the  water's  edge,  shone 
like  a  spray  of  fireworks  as  the  darkening  sky  above  slowly 
turned  to  a  bank  of  hyacinths.  Passing  sails  were  gold  at  first, 
then  brown,  then  pansy-purple,  piercing  the  water  with  their 
sharp  and  deep  reflections.  The  shore-line  was  crowded  thick 
with  pink  and  violet  flower-spears,  as  if  —  said  Nell  —  ranks 
of  fairy  soldiers  had  turned  out  in  our  honor  for  a  review. 

She  and  Phyllis  stood  near  me,  drinking  in  the  delicious 
water-smell  that  mingled  with  the  faint  fragrance  of  closing 
lilies,  and  watching  the  sun  as,  beaten  into  copper,  it  sent  a 
sudden  stream  of  flame  across  the  glittering  crystal.  I  tried  to 
feel  alone  with  them,  in  a  wonderful  world  which  was  for  us 
three  and  nobody  else  except  a  few  swans,  and  tiny  water- 
creatures  rustling  among  the  reeds.  But  there  was  Alb  at  the 
wheel,  looking  handsomer  and  more  inscrutable  than  I  could 
ever  look,  if  I  practised  for  hours  on  end  before  a  flattering 


THE   CHAPERON 

mirror.  How  could  I  help  spoiling  everything  by  wondering 
if  Nell  Van  Buren  were  thinking  about  him  while  she  talked 
with  me  fitfully,  dreamily  ?  And  how  could  I  help  asking 
myself  whether  the  image  of  the  Viking  did  not  come  blunder 
ing  between  Phyllis's  violet  eyes  and  mine,  when  she  seemed 
to  look  sweetly  at  me  ? 

But  it  was  the  sort  of  evening  when  one  thoroughly  enjoys 
being  restless  and  unhappy,  and  I  reveled  in  my  pain. 

Little  yellow  birds,  yellow  as  the  lilies  which  made  a  blazing 
line  of  gold  between  green  reeds  and  amethyst  water,  flitted 
fearlessly  about  the  boat,  until  at  last  the  sun  went  down 
like  a  ruby  necklace  falling  into  a  crystal  box.  Then  we  moved 
through  mysterious  masses  of  purple  shadow,  with  here  and 
there  a  diamond-gleam,  or  the  wing  of  a  swan  like  the  moon 
rising.  And  then  our  own  little  lights  dipped  trailing  golden 
tassels  under  the  surface  of  the  water. 

"Let  us  anchor,"  said  Nell,  at  last,  "and  put  out  our  lights 
again,  and  watch  the  moon  rise.  Oh,  let  us  stay  here  all  night, 
and  wake  early  —  early,  to  see  the  dawn  come !" 

I  loved  her  for  thinking  of  it,  and  so,  I  fear,  did  Alb.  We 
dined  on  such  picnic  things  as  we  happened  to  have  on  board, 
and  when  a  pale  light,  like  the  reflection  of  pearls  in  a  mirror, 
began  to  tremble  in  the  east,  out  went  the  lights.  The  moon 
rose,  and  Phyllis  let  me  hold  her  hand,  which  would  have 
made  me  happy  if  I  hadn't  been  almost  sure  she  was  feeling 
sisterly.  And  afterwards  I  dreamed  about  both  girls.  They 
were  both  in  love  with  me,  and,  after  all,  I  was  in  love  with 
some  one  else  whose  name  I  did  not  seem  to  know,  of  whose 
face  I  could  call  up  no  memory. 

It  was  Alb  who  waked  me  by  pounding  on  the  door  of  my 
cabin  on  "Waterspin,"  and  shouting 

"Get  up,  if  you  want  to  see  the  sunrise." 

So  I  bounded  out  of  bed,  wishing  I  could  recall  that  dream- 
face,  just  to  make  sure  whether  or  no  it  was  more  beautiful 


RONALD  LESTER  STARR'S  POINT  OF  VIEW  313 

than  either  of  the  girls'.  And  by  the  time  I  had  dressed,  and 
gone  across  to  "Mascotte's"  deck,  the  two  I  loved  were  on 
deck  also,  with  the  first  light  of  dawn  shining  in  their  eyes. 

What  did  it  matter  that  we  had  engaged  rooms  at  Zwolle, 
which  we  had  not  occupied  ?  We  breakfasted  there  instead, 
and  saw  a  beautiful  water-gate,  together  with  a  few  other  good 
and  very  ancient  things,  about  which  Alb  seemed  to  know  a 
great  deal. 

There  were  no  signs  of  "Wilhelmina,"  and  my  heart  felt 
light  as  we  went  through  a  great  lock  into  the  Geldern  Yssel, 
which  would  bear  us  to  Holland's  most  beautiful  province, 
Gelderland. 


xxvm 

MY  luck  was  out  in  Gelderland. 
We  had  a  good  day,  teuf-teufing  to  pretty  little 
Dieren,  big  white  clouds  swimming  with  us  in  sky 
and  under  water,  where  they  moved  like  shining 
fish  down  in  the  blue  depths.  Butterflies  chased  us,  white, 
scarlet,  and  gold,  whirling  through  the  air  as  flower-petals 
blow  in  a  high  wind;  and  my  thoughts  flitted  as  they  flitted, 
for  I  was  too  drunk  with  that  elixir,  joy  of  life,  to  care,  as  the 
others  seemed  to  care,  that  Sir  Philip  Sidney  died  at  the  battle 
of  Zutphen;  that  the  River  Geldern  Yssel  was  cut  thirteen 
years  B.C.  to  connect  the  Rhine  with  something  else;  that  by- 
and-by  we  were  going  to  see  Het  Loo,  the  Queen's  favorite 
place;  or  indeed  anything  else  that  could  possibly  be  improv 
ing  to  the  mind.  I  cared  only  that  Nell  and  Phyllis  were  more 
beautiful  than  ever,  and  that  I  still  might  have  a  chance  — 
with  one  of  them. 

"Let  Alb  score  a  little,"  I  thought,  "by  his  knowledge  of 
history  and  Royalties  past  and  present.  I'll  paint  each  of  the 
girls  a  picture,  and  they'll  forget  that  he  exists." 

But  I  did  not  yet  know  my  Alb  and  his  resources.  I  had 
forgotten  that  Gelderland  is  his  special  "pitch,"  the  province 
he  annexed  at  birth.  Fate,  however,  did  not  forget. 

We  got  to  Appeldoorn  that  first  night;  and  the  palace  of 
Het  Loo  is  close  to  Appeldoorn,  so  we  drove  out  and  slept  at 
a  hotel  near  the  palace  gates.  Here  it  was  that  the  worm  turn 
ed.  In  other  words,  Alb  became  a  persona  grata,  while  I  re 
mained  an  ordinary  tourist. 

Alb  had  influence  in  high  quarters.  He  got  up  early,  and 

314 


RONALD  LESTER  STARR'S  POINT  OF  VIEW  315 

went  off  mysteriously  to  exert  it,  returning  in  triumph  as  the 
rest  of  us,  including  Tibe,  were  breakfasting  on  the  broad 
veranda  of  the  hotel  in  the  woods.  Anybody  could  go  into 
the  palace-grounds,  but  he  had  got  permission  to  take  his 
friends  into  the  palace  itself. 

The  girls  were  delighted  at  this,  and  so  was  the  L.C.P., 
who  flew  off  so  quickly  to  get  a  "refill"  for  her  note-book,  that 
Tibe  nearly  upset  an  old  peasant  with  a  broad  hat  and  silver 
ear-rings,  who  was  eating  and  drinking  of  the  best,  at  a  table 
near  ours. 

All  this  feminine  enthusiasm  over  Alb's  idea  piqued  me 
just  enough  to  keep  me  from  joining  the  party.  I  volunteered 
for  dog  duty  while  the  others  saw  the  palace,  and  by  special 
favor,  Tibe  (in  leash)  wandered  reluctantly  with  me  through 
the  fragrant,  green  alleys  of  Het  Loo.  With  me  he  saw  shining 
lakes,  and  crossed  miniature  bridges  guarded  by  mild  stone 
lions,  at  which  he  smelled  curiously ;  with  me  he  sadly  visited 
the  Queen's  bathing-place,  and  the  pretty  little  dairy  and 
farm,  reminiscent  of  poor  Marie  Antoinette's  beloved  Trian 
on  ;  and  when  we  were  joined  by  his  mistress  and  the  others 
he  was  ungrateful  enough  to  pretend  that  I  had  not  amused 
him. 

Alb  was  in  the  ascendant,  and  the  gilt  had  not  had  time  to 
wear  off  the  gingerbread  before  we  arrived  at  Arnhem.  We 
got  there  in  a  day  from  Appeldoorn,  by  going  back  over  our 
own  tracks  as  far  as  Dieren,  where  the  beautiful  little  canal 
seemed  to  welcome  us  again,  as  if  we  were  old  friends.  Through 
the  thick  reeds  on  either  side  we  made  a  royal  progress,  a 
wave  of  water  swiftly  marching  ahead  to  give  them  news  of 
our  approach,  so  that,  as  we  came  toward  them,  the  nearest 
might  bow  before  us,  bending  their  graceful  green  heads 
down,  down,  under  the  water,  and  staying  there  until  we  had 
passed  on. 

It    was    like    a   journey   through   a   long   water-garden, 


816  THE   CHAPERON 

exquisitely  designed  in  some  nobleman's  park,  until  a  thunder 
storm  rolled  up  to  darken  the  landscape,  and  send  Phyllis  for 
protection  to  her  "brother's"  side.  I  should  certainly  have 
asked  her,  there  and  then,  to  forget  the  Viking,  if  a  tree  near 
by  had  not  been  struck  by  lightning  at  that  instant,  and  Nell, 
in  her  sudden  pallor  and  stricken  silence,  had  not  been  more 
beautiful  than  I  had  seen  her  yet. 

I  did  not  remember  until  we  had  been  settled  for  a  night 
and  part  of  a  day  at  a  hotel  with  a  view  and  a  garden,  that 
Alb  was  more  at  home  in  Gelderland  than  elsewhere  in  Hol 
land.  But  he  was  treated  with  marked  respect  at  the  Bellevue, 
and  people  took  off  their  hats  to  him  in  the  street  with  ir 
ritating  deference.  We  went  about  a  good  deal  in  the  town, 
seeing  historic  inns  and  other  show  things  (the  best  of  which 
was  a  room  once  occupied  by  Philip  the  Second's  Duke  of 
Alva),  therefore  I  had  many  opportunities  of  increasing  my 
respect  for  Alb  as  a  personage  of  importance,  if  I  had  been  in 
clined  to  profit  by  them;  and  on  top  of  this  arrived  his  auto 
mobile  from  some  unknown  lair.  There  were  some  famous 
drives  to  be  taken  in  the  neighborhood  of  Arnhem,  he  ex 
plained  in  that  quiet  way  of  his,  and  he  had  thought  it  would 
be  pleasant  to  take  them  in  his  car. 

We  started  out  in  it  on  the  second  morning,  and  hardly  had 
we  left  the  big  pleasure-town  with  its  parks  and  villas,  when 
we  plunged  into  forests  as  deep,  as  majestic,  as  those  round 
Haarlem  and  The  Hague;  forests  tunneled  with  long  green 
avenues  of  silver-trunked  beeches,  where  the  light  was  the 
green  light  which  mermaids  know.  Here  and  there  rose  the 
fine  gateways  and  distant  towers  of  some  great  estate,  and 
Brederode  told  us  that  Gelderland  was  famous  for  its  old  fam 
ilies  and  houses,  as  well  as  for  the  only  hills  in  Holland. 

"Fifty  or  sixty  years  ago,"  said  he,  "the  nobility  of  Gelder 
land  was  so  proud  that  no  one  who  wasn't  noble  was  allowed 
to  buy  an  estate  and  settle  here. " 


RONALD  LESTER  STARR'S  POINT  OF  VIEW  317 

"Allowed  !"  exclaimed  Nell.  "How  could  they  be  prevented 
if  they  had  money  and  an  estate  was  for  sale  ?  " 

Bred  erode  smiled.  u  There  were  ways,"  he  answered.  "Once 
a  rich  banker  of  Amsterdam  thought  he  would  like  to  retire 
and  have  a  fine  house  in  aristocratic  Gelderland.  He  bought 
a  place,  and  wished  to  build  a  house  to  please  his  fancy; 
but  no  architect  would  make  his  plans,  nobody  would  sell  him 
bricks  or  building  material  of  any  kind,  and  he  could  get  no 
workmen.  Every  one  stood  in  too  great  awe  of  the  powerful 
nobles.  So  you  see,  boycotting  isn't  confined  to  Ireland  —  or 
America. " 

"What  happened  in  the  end  ?"  asked  Nell.  "I  do  hope  the 
man  didn't  give  in." 

"Dutchmen  don't,  even  to  each  other,"  said  Alb.  "The 
banker  was  as  obstinate  as  his  enemies.  He  went  to  enormous 
expense,  got  everything  outside  boycot  limits,  put  up  tem 
porary  buildings  on  his  place  for  workmen  from  Rotterdam, 
fed  them  and  himself  from  ^Rotterdam,  and  so  in  the  end  his 
house  was  built.  But  things  are  different  in  Gelderland  now. 
People  who  were  rich  then  are  poor,  and  glad  of  any  one's 
money.  Arnhem  is  as  cosmopolitan  as  The  Hague,  though  it 
has  the  same  curious  Indian-Dutch  set  you  find  there,  keeping 
quite  to  itself.  A  good  many  of  the  famous  old  places  have 
been  sold  in  these  days  to  the  nouveaux  riches,  but  some  are 
left  unspoiled,  and  I'm  going  to  show  you  one  of  them. " 

With  that  he  drove  his  car  through  a  wide,  open  gateway, 
a  lodge-keeper  saluting  as  we  went  by. 

"Oh,  but  how  do  you  know  we  may  go  in  ?"  asked  Phyllis. 

"I'm  sure  we  may,"  said  Bred  erode. 

"Are  strangers  allowed  ?"  the  L.C.P.  questioned  him. 

"Harmless  ones,  like  us." 

Far  away  a  house  was  in  sight,  a  beautiful  old  house,  built 
of  mellowed  red  brick,  its  great  tower  and  several  minor 
turrets  mirrored  in  a  lily-carpeted  lake  which  surrounded  it 


318  THE   CHAPERON 

on  two  sides,  like  an  exaggerated  moat.  "Fifteenth  century," 
said  Bred  erode.  "But  the  big  tower  dates  from  twelve  hundred 
and  fifty.  " 

We  all  stared  in  respectful  awe  of  age  and  majesty,  as  Alb 
stopped  the  car  at  a  small  iron  gate  about  two  hundred  yards 
from  the  house.  The  gate,  guarded  by  giant  oaks,  led  through 
a  strip  of  shadowy  park  to  a  glorious  labyrinth  of  rose-gardens, 
and  gardens  entirely  given  up  to  lilies  of  every  imaginable 
variety,  while  beyond  these  was  a  water-garden  copied  from 
that  of  the  Generalife,  which  I  saw  last  year  at  Granada.  Nor 
was  this  all  of  Spanish  fashion  which  had  been  imitated.  Pedro 
the  Gruel's  fountain-perforated  walks  in  the  Alcazaar  of  Se 
ville  had  been  copied  too,  and  were  put  in  operation  for  our 
amusement  by  a  gardener  with  whom  Brederode  had  a  short 
confab.  When  we  passed  again  through  the  rose  and  lily  gar 
dens,  which  were  in  a  valley  or  dimple  between  two  gentle 
hills,  all  three  of  the  ladies  were  presented  with  as  many 
flowers  as  they  could  carry,  and  Alb  informed  them  that  they 
would  find  more,  of  other  varieties,  waiting  for  them  in  the  car. 

"What  a  divine  place!"  exclaimed  Nell,  as  we  came  once 
more  to  the  little  gate  whence  we  had  the  double  picture  of 
the  house  and  its  reflection  in  the  lake.  "I  don't  see  how  there 
could  be  any  lovelier  one,  even  in  England.  How  I  should 
like  to  live  in  that  wonderful  old  house !  I'd  have  my  own  room 
and  a  boudoir  in  the  thirteenth-century  tower. " 

"Would  you  care  to  go  in  ?"  Alb  asked,  looking  more  at 
Phyllis  than  at  Nell. 

Nell  flushed  and  left  Phyllis  to  answer.  "It  would  be  quite 
like  a  fairy  tale;  but  of  course  we  can't,  as  the  people  of  the 
house  are  evidently  occupying  it." 

"All  the  better,"  said  Brederode.  "The  lady  of  the  house 
will  receive  us  and  give  us  tea." 

"No,  no!"  cried  Nell.  "It  would  be  homed  to  intrude  upon 
her." 


RONALD  LESTER  STARR'S  POINT  OF  VIEW  319 

"You'll  find  she  won't  consider  it  an  intrusion,"  Alb  insisted. 
"In  fact,  I  called  yesterday  and  said  I  was  bringing  you  out 
to-day,  so  it  is  an  invitation." 

The  hall  was  stone  paved,  with  glorious  oak  walls  and  a 
wonderful  ceiling.  There  were  a  few  Persian  rugs,  which  must 
have  been  almost  priceless,  a  quantity  of  fine  old  portraits,  and 
two  or  three  curious  suits  of  armor.  Beyond  was  a  Chinese 
room,  done  in  the  perfect  taste  of  a  nation  which  loves  and 
understands  Oriental  treasures;  and  then  we  came  into  a 
white-and-gold  paneled  boudoir,  sparsely  but  exquisitely  fur 
nished  with  inlaid  satinwood  which  I  would  wager  to  be  gen 
uine  Sheraton. 

In  this  room  sat  a  woman  who  rose  to  welcome  us,  a  wo 
man  worthy  of  her  surroundings.  Her  dress  was  nothing  more 
elaborate  than  black-and-white  muslin,  but  with  the  piled 
silver  of  her  hair,  her  arched,  dark  brows  and  cameo  features, 
her  great  eyes  and  her  noble  figure,  she  looked  a  princess. 

"Ah,  Rudolph,"  she  exclaimed,  in  the  English  of  an  Eng 
lishwoman  born  and  bred,  "how  glad  I  am  that  you  could 
come,  and  bring  the  friends  of  whom  you  have  written  me 
so  often." 

"My  mother,"  Brederode  said;  and  introduced  us. 

I  am  not  ashamed  to  confess  that  I  was  tongue-tied.  What 
had  he  written  ?  How  much  had  he  told  ?  In  what  way  had  he 
described  —  some  of  us  ? 

Nell,  who  usually  has  some  original  little  thought  to  put 
into  words,  apparently  had  no  thoughts  at  all;  or  they  lay  too 
deep  for  utterance.  The  L.C.P.  was  taciturn  too,  which  was 
prudent  on  her  part,  as  this  exquisite  lady  had  probably  heard 
her  son  speak  of  his  Scotch  friend  Lady  MacNairne.  Had 
she  ever  met  Aunt  Fay,  I  knew  that  Alb  was  too  wise,  if  not 
too  loyal,  to  have  brought  us  into  her  power;  still  I  did  not 
feel  safe  enough  to  be  comfortable.  And  even  if  I  had  been 
personally  at  ease,  I  should  have  been  too  busy  with  my  own 


320  THE   CHAPERON 

thoughts  to  do  credit  to  myself  or  country  in  conversation, 
As  I  sipped  caravan  tea  from  a  flower-like  cup  of  old  Dresden, 
I  wondered  what  were  Nell's  sensations  on  beholding  the 
home  and  mother  of  the  despised  skipper  whom  it  had  been 
her  delight  to  snub  and  tease. 

Evidently  he  is  adored,  and  looked  up  to  as  the  one  perfect 
being,  by  his  mother,  who  would  hardly  have  smiled  as 
graciously  on  the  beautiful  Miss  Van  Buren,  could  some  imp 
have  whispered  in  her  ear  how  that  young  lady  treated  her 
host,  when  he  was  nobody  but  a  poor  skipper  on  board  a 
motor-boat.  Through  some  careless  word  which  gave  a  turn 
to  the  conversation,  I  discovered  that  Liliendaal  is  not  the 
only  house  reigned  over  by  Jonkheer  Brederode,  alias  Alb. 
There's  one  at  The  Hague,  but  they  "find  Liliendaal  pleasant 
in  summer." 

Indeed,  it  appears  to  me  that  "pleasant"  is  only  a  mild 
and  modest  word  for  the  place;  yet  its  owner  can  cheerfully 
desert  it,  week  after  week,  to  rub  along  as  a  mere  despised 
Albatross  on  board  a  tuppenny  ha'penny  motor-boat,  running 
about  the  canals  of  Holland. 

Of  course,  he  is  in  love,  which  covers  a  multitude  of  hard 
ships.  But  it  isn't  as  clear  as  it  used  to  be,  which  Angel  he  is 
in  love  with.  Perhaps  the  latest  snubbing  was  the  last  drop  in 
his  cup,  which  caused  the  whole  to  overflow,  and  he  had  to 
fill  it  up  again  —  for  another.  He  poured  scorn  upon  me,  in 
our  first  passage  of  arms,  for  being  in  love  with  two  girls  at 
once;  but  how  much  more  poetical  and  at  the  same  time  more 
generous  to  love  two  at  a  time  than  not  to  love  one  well  enough 
to  know  your  own  mind ! 

In  any  case,  it  was  Phyllis  who  shone  on  the  occasion  of 
our  call  at  Liliendaal,  and  it  was  she  who  seemed  to  make 
the  impression  upon  the  gracious  mother.  Whether  it  was 
the  fact  that  she  is  English,  or  whether  it  was  because  she 
could  talk  to  her  hostess  —  as  if  she  knew  them  —  about 


It  was  Phyllis  who  shone  at  Liliendaal 


RONALD  LESTER  STARR'S  POINT  OF  VIEW  321 

various  distinguished  titled  beings  whom  the  lady  of  Lilien- 
daal  had  not  seen  for  a  long  time;  or  whether  it  was  because 
Phyllis  once  had  a  cousin  who  wrote  a  book  about  the  Earls  of 
Helvelyn  (the  lady's  father  was  an  Earl  of  Helvelyn)  at  all 
events  the  honors  were  for  Phyllis;  and  if  Alb  really  had 
changed  his  mind  about  the  two  girls,  as  the  L.C.P.  is  con 
tinually  saying,  he  ought  to  have  been  pleased. 

Phyllis  and  my  alleged  aunt  were  both  particularly  gracious 
to  him  on  the  way  back  to  Arnhem,  as  if  he  had  risen  in  their 
esteem  now  that  thry  realized  what  an  important  man  he  is; 
but  afterwards  when  I  accused  the  L.C.P.  of  this  piece  of  snob 
bishness,  she  vowed  that  it  was  only  because  they  both  realized 
how  much  he  was  giving  up  for  the  sake  of  —  somebody. 

Just  because  I  could  not  be  sure  which  one  the  somebody 
was,  and  whether  he  were  more  likely  to  prevail,  after  this 
coup  d'etat,  I  was  uneasy  in  my  mind,  with  the  new  knowledge 
of  Alb's  greatness.  What  are  my  dollars  to  his  beautiful  old 
houses,  and  a  mother  who  is  the  daughter  of  an  English  earl  ? 
I  suppose  these  things  count  with  girls,  even  such  adorable 
girls  as  Nell  Van  Buren  and  Phyllis  Rivers. 

A  thing  that  happened  the  same  evening  has  not  relieved 
my  anxiety. 

At  the  Hotel  Bellevue,  each  room  on  the  floor  where  we 
live,  has  its  own  slip  of  balcony,  separated  from  the  next 
by  a  partition.  I  was  sitting  on  mine,  after  we  had  all  said 
good- night  to  each  other,  smoking  a  cigarette  and  waiting 
for  the  moon  to  rise,  an  act  which  she  selfishly  postpones  at 
this  time  of  the  month,  so  as  to  give  her  admirers  as  much 
trouble  and  as  little  sleep  as  possible. 

Suddenly  I  heard  Phyllis's  voice  on  the  other  side  of  the 
balcony  partition. 

"Dearest,"  she  was  saying  dreamily,  "isn't  it  strange  how, 
on  a  night  like  this,  you  seem  to  see  things  clearly,  which 
have  been  dark  before  ?" 


322  THE   CHAPERON 

"It  isn't  so  very  strange,"  Nell  answered  practically.  "The 
moon's  coming  up.  And  that's  a  sign  we  ought  to  be  going 
to  bed." 

"I  didn't  mean  that,"  said  Phyllis.  "I  mean,  there's  a  kind 
of  influence  on  such  a  beautiful  night,  which  makes  you  see 
into  your  own  heart." 

"What  do  you  see  ?"  asked  Nell. 

I  wanted  to  know  what,  as  much  as  Nell  did,  and  a  great 
deal  more,  judging  from  her  tone.  But  unfortunately  I  had 
no  right  to  try  and  find  out,  so  I  got  up,  and  scraped  my  chair 
and  prepared  to  go  indoors.  But  I  had  forgotten  to  shut  my 
match-box  when  I  lighted  a  cigarette  a  few  minutes  before, 
and  now  I  knocked  it  off  the  table  where  it  had  been  lying, 
scattering  over  the  floor  every  match  I  had  left  in  the  world. 

If  they  intended  to  say  anything  really  private,  I  had  made 
noise  enough  to  prevent  them  from  doing  it;  so  I  thought 
I  might  conscientiously  remain  and  pick  up  some  of  the 
matches.  The  personnel  of  the  hotel  had  gone  to  its  beds, 
therefore,  if  I  wanted  to  smoke  later,  it  must  be  these  matches 
or  none. 

"After  all,  I'm  not  quite  sure  what  I  do  see,  when  I  come 
to  ask  myself,  like  that,  in  so  many  words,"  said  Phyllis.  "I 
do  wish  you'd  advise  me.  Will  you,  dear  ?" 

"Of  course,  if  I  can,"  came  the  answer,  a  little  shortly. 

"Well,  supposing  you  cared  more  than  you  thought  you 
ought,  for  a  man  it  couldn't  be  right  to  care  for  at  all,  because 
he  belonged  to  some  one  else,  what  would  you  do  ?" 

"Try  to  stop  caring  for  him,"  said  Nell. 

"That's  what  I  think,  too;  only  it  might  be  hard,  mightn't 
it  ?  Do  you  suppose  it  would  be  easier  if  a  girl  did  her  best 
to  learn  to  love  another  man,  who  was  free  to  care  for  her,  and 
did  seem  to  care  for  her,  so  as  to  take  her  mind  off  the  —  the 
forbidden  man  ?" 

No  answer.  (I  realized  that  they  could  not  have  heard  the 


RONALD  LESTER  STARR'S  POINT  OF  VIEW  323 

falling  match-box,  and  I  was  at  my  window-door  now,  going 
in.  But  the  door  is  a  Dutch  door,  which  means  that  it  is 
cleaned  and  varnished  every  day;  and  the  varnish  stuck.) 

"You  might  tell  me  what  you  think,  Nell.  You  have  had 
so  much  experience,  in  serials." 

"Oh !"  exclaimed  Nell.  "I  —  I  hate  you,  Phil !" 
Their  door  evidently  did  not  stick,  for  suddenly  it  slammed, 
and  I  guessed  that  Nell  had  rushed  in  and  banged  it  shut 
behind  her. 

Now,  it  is  the  next  day  but  one  after  this  episode,  and  we 
are  at  Utrecht,  after  having  visited  an  old  "kastel"  or  two 
more  in  the  neighborhood  of  Arnhem,  and  then  following  the 
Rhine  where  it  winds  among  fields  like  a  wide,  twisted  ribbon 
of  silver  worked  into  a  fabric  of  green  brocade.  Its  high  waves, 
roughened  by  huge  side- wheel  steamers,  spilt  us  into  the  Lek; 
and  so,  past  queer  little  ferries  and  a  great  crowded  lock  or 
two,  where  Alb  used  his  Club  flag,  we  came  straight  to  the 
fine  old  city  of  which  one  hears  and  knows  more,  somehow, 
than  of  any  other  in  Holland. 

I  planned  to  do  a  little  painting  here;  but,  after  all,  I  don't 
seem  to  take  as  much  interest  in  composing  pictures  as  in 
trying  to  puzzle  out  the  meanings  of  several  things. 

I  suppose  a  man  never  can  hope  to  understand  women; 
but  even  a  woman  sometimes  fails  to  understand  another 
woman.  For  instance,  goaded  by  unsatisfied  curiosity  to  know, 
not  only  my  own  fate,  but  everybody  else's  fate,  all  round,  I 
was  tempted  to  take  advantage  of  nephewhood,  and  put  the 
case,  as  I  saw  it,  to  the  L.C.P. 

I  ventured  to  tell  her  what  I  overheard  between  the  girls  on 
their  balcony. 

"Now,  you  must  know,"  I  said,  "that  I'm  in  love  with 
Phyllis." 

"I  thought  it  was  Nell,"  said  she. 


324  THE   CHAPERON 

"So  did  I,  for  a  while;  but  I've  discovered  that  it's  Phyllis. 
And  I  shall  be  very  much  obliged  to  you  if  you  can  tell  me 
something.  In  fact,  if  you  can,  your  dear  nephew  Ronny  will 
present  his  aunt  with  a  diamond  ring. " 

"You  mean  if  I  tell  you  what  you  want  to  hear." 

"No.  It  must  be  what  you  honestly  think. " 

"I  don't  want  a  diamond  ring,"  said  she,  which  surprised 
me  extremely.  It  was  the  first  time  anything  worth  having  has 
been  mentioned  which  she  did  not  want,  and,  usually,  ask  for. 

"A  pearl  one,  then,"  I  suggested  in  my  astonishment. 

"I  don't  want  a  pearl  one  —  or  any  other  one,  so  you  can 
save  yourself  the  trouble  of  working  through  a  long  list," 
replied  the  lady  who  is  engaged  to  be  my  obliging  relative. 
"But  go  on,  and  ask  what  you  were  going  to  ask.  Anything 
I  can  do  for  you,  as  an  aunt,  I  will.  I  am  paid  for  it." 

This  grew  "curioser  and  curioser,"  as  Alice  had  occasion 
to  remark  in  her  adventures.  But  having  embarked  upon  my 
narrative,  I  went  on  - 

"Whom  do  you  think  Phyllis  meant  when  she  spoke  of 
trying  to  learn  to  love  a  man  who  seemed  to  love  her  ?  Was 
it  Alb,  or  - 

"Mr.  Robert  van  Buren,  perhaps  you  were  going  to  say," 
cut  in  the  L.C.P. 

"No,  I  don't  mean  him,"  I  answered  hurriedly.  "Modesty 
forbids  me  to  mention  the  name  in  my  mind." 

"But  it  was  given  to  you  by  your  sponsors  in  baptism. 
Will  it  make  you  very  unhappy  if  I  say  I  don't  think  that  was 
the  name  in  her  mind  ?" 

"I  shall  have  to  bear  it,"  I  said.  "But,  of  course,  I  shall 
be  unhappy." 

"We  all  seem  to  be  unhappy  lately,"  remarked  the  L.C.P. 

"Except  you." 

"Yes,  except  me,  of  course,"  she  responded.  "Why  should 
I  be  unhappy  ?  Tibe  loves  me." 


RONALD  LESTER  STARR'S  POINT  OF  VIEW  325 

"You  don't  deserve  it;  but  so  do  we  all,"  said  I. 

She  brightened. 

"You  are  harmful,  but  necessary,"  I  went  on.  "We  are 
used  to  you.  We  have  even  acquired  a  taste  for  you,  I  don't 
know  why,  or  how.  But  you  have  an  uncanny,  unauntlike 
fascination  of  your  own,  which  we  all  feel.  At  times  it  is  even 
akin  to  pain." 

"Oh  well,  the  pain  will  soon  be  over,"  said  she.  "We're 
at  Utrecht  now.  Soon  we'll  be  going  to  Zeeland,  from  Zeeland 
back  to  Rotterdam;  and  that's  the  end  of  the  trip  —  and  my 
engagement.  It  will  be  'good-by '  then." 

"I  feel  now  as  if  it  would  be  good-by  to  everything,"  I 
sighed.  "I  never  nursed  a  fond  gazelle  — 

"You  tried  to  nurse  two,"  said  she.  "You're  like  the  dog 
who  dropped  the  substance  for  the  shadow." 

"Which  is  which,  please?  --  though  to  specify  would 
perhaps  be  ungallant  to  both.  Besides,  I  haven't  dropped 
either  of  them.  If  Phyllis  :s  lost  to  me,  I  may  still  be  able 
to  fall  back  on  Nell,  whom  nobody  else  seems  to  claim  at 
present." 

"Oh,  don't  they  ?"  murmured  the  L.C.P. 

"Do  they?" 

"She  may  have  left  dozens  of  adorers  at  home,  to  pick  up 
again  when  she  goes  back.  She's  a  beautiful  girl,"  said  her 
chaperon. 

"Radiantly  so,  and  I  used  to  think  also  possessed  of  a 
beautiful  disposition.  But  since  she  flew  out  at  poor  little 
Phyllis,  who  was  asking  for  advice  and  comfort,  and  cried, 
*  I  hate  you,  Phil  —  '  Now,  you're  a  woman.  What  had  Phyllis 
said  to  put  her  in  a  rage  ?" 

The  L.C.P.  laughed.  "Enough  to  put  a  saint  in  a  rage,"  said 
she.  "And  Nell  isn't  a  saint.  But  they've  been  more  devoted 
to  each  other  than  ever,  since,  so  she  must  have  repented  and 
apologized,  and  been  forgiven,  before  the  moon  went  down. 


326  THE   CHAPERON 

Oh,  you  poor  puzzled  creature !  I  wouldn't  be  a  man  for  any. 
thing!" 

And  that  was  all  the  satisfaction  I  could  get  from  her.  I 
remain  as  much  in  the  dark  as  ever.  But  Robert  van  Buren, 
his  sisters,  and  his  fiancee  are  arriving  immediately,  and  per 
haps  I  may  get  enlightenment  during  the  visit.  I  ought  to  have 
some  reward,  since  it  is  through  me  that  the  Viking  is  coming 
with  the  females  of  his  kind,  at  this  particular  time. 

In  a  moment  of  quixotic  generosity  at  Enkhuisen,  I  pro 
mised  Phyllis,  as  a  newly  adopted,  if  reluctant,  brother,  that 
I  would  make  everything  right  for  her.  Afterwards,  I  was 
inclined  to  repent  of  the  plan  which  had  sprung,  Minerva-like 
full-grown  and  helmeted,  from  my  suffering  brain.  But  it  was 
too  late  then.  I  had  to  keep  my  word,  for  I  was  sure  that, 
deep  down  in  her  mind,  Phyllis  was  expecting  me  to  perform 
some  miracle. 

Rather  than  disappoint  her  —  and  lower  my  self-esteem  — 
I  had  a  talk  with  Robert  the  day  he  was  leaving.  Not  an 
intimate  talk,  for  we  aren't  on  those  terms;  but  I  managed  to 
get  out  of  him  that  he  was  parting  from  us  before  he  had 
intended  because  of  a  letter  from  the  fiancee. 

"Young  ladies  are  a  little  exacting  when  they  are  engaged, 
I  suppose,"  said  the  poor  fellow.  "They  feel  they  have  more 
right  than  others  to  a  man's  society." 

Then  it  was  that  I  asked  why  he  didn't  bring  Freule  Menela, 
chaperoned  by  the  twins,  to  Utrecht  instead  of  waiting  until 
we  had  got  as  far  as  Zeeland,  which  the  fiancee  might  think 
too  long  a  journey  with  such  an  object  in  view.  He  said  that 
he  would  ask  her. 

"Don't  seem  too  anxious,"  said  I,  airily.  "And  don't  tell 
her  you  want  her  to  be  better  acquainted  with  your  cousin  and 
step-cousin.  Just  remark  that  it  will  be  a  jolly  excursion,  eh  ? 
And  you  might  add  that  Bred  erode  and  I  —  particularly  I  - 
are  awfully  keen  on  seeing  her. v 


RONALD  LESTER  STARR'S  POINT  OF  VIEW  327 

"Very  well,  I  will  give  that  message,"  said  he.  And  I  think 
he  probably  did  give  it,  or  something  like  it;  for  Nell  had  a 
telegram  from  him,  while  we  were  still  doddering  about  in 
Friesland,  asking  if  he  might  bring  the  ladies  on  a  visit  to 
Utrecht. 

Now,  it  is  "up  to  me"  to  carry  out  that  plan  made  on  the 
impulse  of  an  unselfish  moment. 

Moral :  do  not  have  unselfish  moments. 


XXIX 

I  BELIEVE  that,  in  the  dark  ages,  I  was  rather  a  good 
little  boy.  I  used  often  to  tell  the  truth,  and  the  whole 
truth,  even  when  most  inconvenient  to  my  pastors  and 
masters.   I   gave   pennies   to  the  poor,  unless  I  very 
much  wanted  them  myself;  I  said  "Now  —  I  —  Lay  —  Me," 
every  night,  and  also  in  the  morning  till  advised  that  it  was 
inappropriate;  and  I  sang  in  a  boy's  choir,  so  beautifully  and 
with  such  a  soulful  expression  in  my  eyes,  that  people  used  to 
pat  my  curls,  and  fear  that  I  was  destined  to  die  young. 

In  those  days,  or  even  until  a  few  weeks  ago  no  one  who 
looked  at  me  would  have  believed  me  capable  of  plotting 
against  young  and  innocent  girls,  annexing  aunts  on  the  hire 
system,  or  deluding  uncles-in-law  with  misleading  statements. 
Yet  these  things  I  have  done,  and  worse;  for  I  have  kept  my 
word  to  Phyllis  Rivers. 

If  I  must  commit  a  crime,  my  artistic  sense  bids  me  do  it 
well;  and  then,  of  course,  when  one  has  started  in  a  certain 
direction,  one  is  often  carried  along  a  little  farther  than  one 
intended  to  go  at  first. 

That  was  what  happened  to  me,  in  the  affair  of  Robert 
van  Buren  and  his  fiancee. 

I  was  pledged  to  Phyllis  and  myself  to  free  the  Viking 
somehow  —  anyhow.  It  was  rash  of  me  to  give  this  pledge, 
also  it  was  quixotic;  and  many  hours  did  not  pass  after  mak 
ing  it,  before  I  was  seized  with  regret,  and  convictions  that 
I  had  been  an  ass. 

Exactly  how  I  was  going  to  do  the  deed  did  not  occur  to 
me  at  the  time,  but  I  had  an  idea  which  fitted  in  with  my 

328 


RONALD  LESTER  STARR'S  POINT  OF  VIEW  329 

other  villainies  so  well,  that  it  seemed  really  a  pity  not  to  add 
it  to  the  richly  colored  pattern. 

It  was  for  this  reason  that  I  dreaded  returning  to  the  Hotel 
du  Pays  Bas  from  a  walk  about  Utrecht,  knowing  as  I  did 
that  the  van  Buren  party  would  have  arrived. 

I  stayed  out,  sketching,  as  long  as  there  was  any  light,  and 
got  a  few  good  bits  of  the  old  town;  a  shadowed  glimpse  of 
one  of  Utrecht's  strange  canals,  unique  in  Holland,  with  its 
double  streets,  one  above  the  other;  an  impression  of  the 
Cathedral  spire,  seen  beyond  a  series  of  arched  bridges;  a 
couple  of  fishermen  bringing  up  a  primitive  net,  fastened  on 
four  branches,  and  sparkling  as  it  came  out  of  the  water,  like 
a  spider-web  spun  of  crystal. 

I  was  careful  not  to  appear  till  dinner-time;  but  one  is 
obliged  in  self-defense  to  dine  early  in  Holland,  because  what 
seems  early  to  a  foreigner  seems  late  to  a  Dutchman.  At 
seven  o'clock  I  went  to  the  L.C.P.'s  sitting-room  (it  has 
become  a  regular  thing  for  her  to  have  a  sitting-room),  and 
behold,  they  were  all  assembled. 

Nell  was  plainly  dressed  in  the  simplest  kind  of  a  white 
frock,  but  Phyllis  had  made  quite  a  toilet.  Poor  child!  I 
could  guess  why.  She  need  not,  however,  have  given  herself 
the  pains.  The  fiancee,  compared  with  her,  was  like  a  withered 
lemon  beside  a  delicately  ripening  peach. 

The  van  Buren  twins  are  delicious  creatures;  but  they  did 
not  count  in  the  little  drama.  Besides,  they  are,  in  any  case, 
too  young  for  drama.  They  are  just  beginning  to  rehearse 
for  the  first  act  of  life;  and  I  think  for  them  it  will  be  a  pretty 
pastoral,  never  drama  or  tragedy,  or  even  lively  comedy. 

I  knew  from  Phyllis's  description  what  sort  of  girl  the 
fiancee  would  turn  out  to  be,  except  that  I  didn't  expect  to 
find  her  quite  so  smart.  Her  dress,  and  the  hat  she  had  put 
on  for  the  hotel  dinner,  might  have  come  from  the  Rue  de  la 
Paix;  which  was  all  the  more  credit  to  her,  as  I  have  heard  a 


330  THE   CHAPERON 

dozen  times  if  I  have  heard  it  once,  that  she  is  very  poor  —  as 
poor  as  she  is  proud. 

Now  was  my  time  to  set  the  ball  rolling;  and  valiantly  I 
gave  it  the  first  kick.  I  feigned  to  be  much  taken  at  first  sight 
with  the  young  lady  from  The  Hague.  At  once  I  flung  myself 
into  conversation  with  her,  in  which  we  were  both  so  deeply 
absorbed,  that  when  the  L.C.P.  suggested  going  down  to 
dinner,  nobody  can  have  been  surprised  when  I  said,  "Please, 
all  whom  it  may  concern,  I  want  to  sit  next  to  Freule  Menela 
van  der  Windt  at  the  dinner  table."  Indeed,  most  of  the  party 
have  long  passed  the  stage  of  being  surprised  at  anything  I  do; 
a  state  of  mind  to  which  I  have  carefully  trained  them.  The 
Viking,  however,  has  not  often  seen  me  at  my  best,  so  he  star 
ed  at  this  audacity,  but  on  second  thoughts  decided  not  to  be 
displeased. 

Neither  was  the  fiancee  displeased.  I  did  not  attribute  her 
pleasure  to  the  power  of  my  manly  charms;  but  the  young 
lady  is  the  sort  of  young  lady  to  be  complimented  by  almost 
any  marked  attention  from  any  man,  especially  when  other 
girls,  prettier  than  herself,  are  present. 

I  continued  to  absorb  myself  in  Freule  Menela. 

She  has,  I  soon  discovered,  a  veneering  of  intelligence, 
and  a  smattering  of  information  on  a  number  of  subjects 
useful  in  a  drawing-room.  We  talked  about  Dutch  art,  and 
French  art,  and  so  many  facts  was  the  maiden  able  to  launch 
at  my  head,  that  the  lovely  pink-and-white  twins  gazed  at 
their  future  sister-in-law  with  ingenuous  admiration. 

Evidently  she  had  gleaned  from  Robert  all  he  had  to  tell 
about  me,  as  well  as  about  the  other  members  of  the  party,  for 
she  is  not  the  sort  of  girl  to  lay  herself  out  for  strangers  unless 
she  considers  them  worth  while. 

Apparently  she  did  consider  me  worth  while;  and  during 
dinner  she  had  hardly  a  word  for  the  Viking,  who  sat  on  her 
other  side;  but  that  was  all  the  better  for  him,  because  it  gave 


RONALD  LESTER  STARR'S  POINT  OF  VIEW  331 

him  a  chance  to  talk  across  the  table  to  Phyllis,  and  to  look  at 
her  when  he  was  sitting  dumb. 

"There's  going  to  be  an  illumination  this  evening,"  said 
Brederode.  "You  know  the  parks  and  gardens  you  admired 
so  much  last  night,  as  we  came  through  the  canal  into  Utrecht  ? 
Well,  there  will  be  colored  lights  there;  and  a  walk  along 
the  towing-path  would  be  rather  nice,  if  any  one  feels  inclined 
for  it." 

"Oh,  do  let's  go!"  exclaimed  Phyllis;  and  the  twins  echoed 
her  enthusiastically. 

That  was  enough  for  Brederode,  though  neither  Nell  nor 
the  L.C.P.  replied;  and  I  asked  myself  by  whose  side  he  was 
planning  to  walk.  Had  he  proposed  the  excursion  with  an 
eye  to  monopolizing  the  English  or  the  American  Angel  ? 

I  stifled  the  pang  which  I  could  not  help  feeling  at  the 
thought  that  he  should  have  either,  and  in  a  low  voice  asked 
Freule  Menela  van  der  Windt  if  I  might  be  her  cavalier,  in 
order  to  continue  our  very  interesting  argument  ?  I  had  al 
ready  forgotten  what  the  last  one  was  about;  but  that  was  a 
detail. 

Had  she  been  a  little  less  well-bred,  I  think  she  would  have 
bridled.  As  it  was,  she  really  did  smirk  a  little,  in  a  ladylike 
way. 

We  took  cabs,  and  drove  out  past  all  that  was  commercial, 
to  the  place  where  the  towing-path  began  to  be  prettiest,  and 
the  illuminations  the  most  fantastic. 

I  was  in  a  cab  with  the  fiancee  and  her  prospective  sisters- 
in-law;  but  when  we  got  out  to  walk,  I  self-sacrificingly  flung 
the  twins  to  the  Chaperon,  and,  alone  with  the  young  lady 
from  The  Hague  (she  never  lets  you  forget  for  five  minutes  to 
gether  that  she  is  from  The  Hague)  I  slackened  my  pace  and 
regulated  hers  to  it,  that  we  might  drop  behind  the  others. 

The  towing-path  and  the  canal  were  beautiful  and  fantastic 
as  some  night  picture  of  Venice.  A  faint  mist  had  risen  out  of 


332  THE   CHAPERON 

the  water  at  sunset,  and  the  red,  green,  and  gold  lamps  sus 
pended  from  trees  and  barges  seemed  to  hang  in  it  like  jewels 
caught  in  a  veil  of  gauze.  The  trees  arched  over  us  tenderly, 
bending  as  if  to  listen  to  words  of  love.  The  soft  rose-radiance 
that  hovered  in  the  air  made  lovely  faces  irresistible,  and  plain 
ones  tolerable.  Any  normal  man  would  have  been  impelled  to 
propose  to  the  nearest  pretty  girl,  whether  he  had  been  pre 
viously  in  love  with  her  or  not,  and  the  nearest  pretty  girl 
would  have  said  "yes  —  yes,"  without  stopping  to  think  about 
her  feelings  to-morrow. 

Freule  Menela  van  der  Windt  is  not  pretty;  but  without  her 
pince-nez,  she  looked  almost  piquant  in  the  pink  lights  and 
blue  shadows  which  laced  our  features  as  we  passed,  for  which 
I  was  devoutly  thankful,  as  it  made  my  task  comparatively 
easy.  I  found  her  softer,  more  feminine,  more  sympathetic, 
than  she  had  been  in  the  hotel.  She  would,  she  said,  like  to  see 
America;  and  that  gave  me  my  chance.  It  was  a  pity,  I  told 
her,  that  such  an  intelligent  and  broad-minded  young  lady 
should  not  travel  about  the  world  before  settling  down  in  such 
a  small,  though  charming,  country  as  Holland. 

Instantly  she  caught  me  up,  with  a  little  laugh.  "Why 
should  you  take  it  for  granted  that  I  am  going  to  'settle  down ' 
anywhere  ?" 

"Oh,"  said  I,  rather  embarrassed  at  this  direct  attack,  "I 
—  er  —  was  told  that  Mr.  van  Buren  had  been  lucky  enough 
to  persuade  you  to  live  in  Rotterdam." 

"Never!"  exclaimed  Freule  Menela,  deeply  interested  in 
this  conversation  about  herself.  "I  will  never  live  in  Rot 
terdam!" 

"But,"  I  ventured,  with  an  air  of  eagerness,  "if  you  should 
marry  a  man  whose  interests  are  in  Rotterdam  — 

"It  isn't  at  all  decided  that  I  shall  marry  such  a  man,"  she 
answered  sharply. 

"Not  decided  ?"  I  repeated  anxiously.   "Look  here,  you 


RONALD  LESTER  STARR'S  POINT  OF  VIEW  333 

know,  I  don't  think  it's  fair  to  other  men  that  it  should  be 
taken  for  granted  you're  engaged,  if  you're  not  really." 

"Why  should  it  matter  to  other  men  ?"  asked  the  lady. 

"Oh,  well,  it  might,  you  see.  There  might  —  er  —  be  some 
man  who  met  you  for  the  first  time  after  he'd  heard  of  your 
engagement,  and  who  for  his  own  peace  of  mind  didn't  dare 
let  himself  admire  your  brilliant  talents  as  much  as  he  would 
like  to." 

Now,  I  had  got  as  far  as  I  intended  to  go.  Some  dim  idea 
of  rescuing  the  Viking  from  the  girl  he  doesn't  love,  to  give 
him  to  the  girl  he  does  (and  I  do),  had  been  floating  in  my 
mind  ever  since  that  stormy  night  at  Enkhuisen.  I  had  thought 
that  Freule  Menela  was  the  sort  of  girl  who  might  drop  the 
meat  for  the  sake  of  the  shadow;  but  having  indicated  the 
presence  of  a  floating,  ghostly  shadow  —  which  might  belong 
to  any  one  or  no  one  —  I  had  no  idea  of  advancing  further, 
even  to  bestow  happiness  on  Phyllis. 

I  had  argued  with  my  conscience,  "If  she's  a  woman  who's 
ready  to  throw  over  the  man  she's  engaged  to,  just  because  he 
isn't  veiy  rich  or  particularly  eligible  in  her  eyes,  and  because 
some  other  vague  person  looming  on  the  horizon  has  more 
money  than  Number  One,  why,  it's  a  sure  sign  that  she  ac 
cepted  Number  One  because  she  couldn't  get  any  one  else, 
therefore  she  doesn't  deserve  to  keep  him,  and  she  does  de 
serve  not  only  to  see  him  slip  away,  but  to  see  the  shadow  go 
with  him." 

However,  I  had  not  taken  Freule  Menela's  talents  into 
due  account  —  or  my  own  failings." 

"Is  there  such  a  man  ?"  she  asked. 

"There  might  be,"  I  cautiously  repeated.  "The  question 
is,  are  you  engaged  to  Mr.  van  Buren,  or  are  you  not  ?" 

"There  has  been  an  understanding  between  his  family  and 
mine,  for  many  years,  that  some  day  we  should  marry,"  she 
answered.  "And,  of  course,  he's  very  fond  of  me,  though  you 


334  THE    CHAPERON 

might  not  think  it  from  his  manner.  He  often  appears  to 
feel  more  interest  in  women  for  whom  he  cares  nothing,  than 
in  me,  to  whom  he  is  devoted.  That  is  a  characteristic  of  men 
who  have  his  reserved  nature." 

"I'm  afraid  I  don't  understand  reserved  natures,"  said  I. 
"If  I  care  for  any  one,  I  can't  help  showing  it." 

"I  have  often  thought,"  went  on  Freule  Menela,  "of  telling 
Robert  van  Buren  that  he  and  I  are  not  suited  to  each  other. 
My  ideal  man  is  very  different.  And  besides,  as  I  said,  nothing 
could  induce  me  to  settle  down  in  Rotterdam." 

"You  might  make  that  the  determining  point,"  I  suggested, 
"if  you  were  looking  for  an  excuse  to  save  his  feelings." 

"Do  you  really  think  so  ?"  she  asked. 

"I  certainly  do.  Then  you  could  leave  him  the  choice. 
Rotterdam,  without  you;  the  more  lively  place,  with  you. 
Oh !  don't  you  think,  for  your  sake  and  his,  you  ought  to  do 
this  at  once  ?" 

"And  a  little  for  the  sake  of  —  the  other  man  ?"  she  asked, 
archly. 

I  dared  not  inquire,  stonily,  "What  other  man  ?"  lest  the 
work  I  had  accomplished  should  be  destroyed  in  a  single 
stroke.  So  I  said 

"Yes,  and  for  the  sake  of  the  other  man." 

"You  believe  it  would  really  matter  to  him  ?" 

She  looked  up  so  anxiously  as  she  put  this  question  that, 
quite  apart  from  the  interests  of  Phyllis  Rivers,  I  could  not 
have  dashed  hers,  or  any  other  woman's  hopes,  by  giving  an 
unchivalrous  answer.  Let  come  what  might,  I  could  not  de 
liberately  bring  the  pallor  of  humiliation  to  a  female  face, 
especially  after  words  of  mine  had  once  caused  it  to  glow  with 
pleasure. 

"How  could  I  believe  otherwise?"  I  demanded;  and  my 
tone  sounded  almost  too  sincere  in  my  own  ears. 

For  a  moment  Freule  Menela  van  der  Windt  did  not  an- 


RONALD  LESTER  STARR'S  POINT  OF  VIEW  335 

swer,  and  I  hoped  that  her  thoughts  had  hopped  to  some 
other  branch  of  the  subject;  but  presently  she  broke  out,  as 
if  impelled  by  impulse  to  utter  her  thought  to  a  congenial  soul. 

"Isn't  it  strange  how  sometimes  one  seems  to  know  a  person 
one  has  only  just  met,  better  than  another,  with  whom  one  has 
been  intimate  for  years  ?" 

"That  is  often  so,"  I  hurried  to  assure  her,  with  the  idea  of 
establishing  the  commonplaceness  of  such  an  experience. 

"You  feel  it,  too  ?"  Her  eyes  were  fixed  on  me,  and  I  an 
swered  "Yes,"  before  I  had  time  to  decide  whether,  at  this 
point,  it  would  not  be  safer  not  to  feel  it. 

"I've  often  been  told  that  American  men  are  very  impulsive. 
But  —  are  there  many  like  you  ?"  asked  Freule  Menela. 

"Lots,"  I  said  quickly. 

"Oh,  then  it's  really  true  that  it  is  quite  a  usual  thing 
among  your  country  people,  for  a  man  to  tell  a  girl  he  cares 
for  her,  when  he  has  seen  her  only  once  ?" 

"I  —  er  —  really  don't  know  about  that,"  I  answered, 
beginning  to  be  disturbed  in  soul. 

"You  know  only  how  it  is  with  yourself  ?"  Freule  Menela 
murmured,  with  a  girlish  laugh  that  betrayed  suppressed  ex 
citement.  "Well,  Mr.  Starr,  I  think  it  would  be  foolish  to  pre 
tend  to  misunderstand.  I  have  heard  much  about  you  —  per 
haps  you  have  heard  a  little  of  me  ?  —  yet  you  have  taken  me 
by  storm.  The  thing  I  love  best  is  art.  You  are  a  great  artist  — • 
and  you  are  a  man  of  the  world.  You  have  all  the  fire  of 
genius  —  and  geniuses  have  a  right  to  do  things  which  other 
men  may  not  do.  I  believe  you  have  made  me  more  interested 
in  you,  in  these  last  two  hours  we  have  spent  together,  than  I 
have  been  in  any  one  else  in  as  many  years.  And  because 
of  you,  and  what  you  have  said  —  so  delicately  yet  so  unmis 
takably  —  I  am  going  now  to  take  your  advice  about  Robert. " 

Before  I  could  stop  her,  even  if  I  had  had  the  courage  and 
presence  of  mind,  she  walked  quickly  away  from  me,  and 


336  THE   CHAPERON      . 

joined  Phyllis  and  van  Buren,  who  were  sauntering  a  few 

yards  ahead. 

My  brain  whirled,  and  threatened  to  give  way  in  the  horror 
of  the  situation.  I  could  have  shouted  aloud  with  the  shrill 
intensity  of  a  drowning  man,  "Alb,  save  me!"  But  Alb  was 
far  in  front,  strolling  with  the  van  Buren  twins,  while  the  one 
van  Buren  in  whom  he  is  really  interested  walked  behind  him 
with  my  temporary  aunt.  And  in  any  case,  he  could  have 
done  nothing.  Before  my  stunned  wits  had  time  to  rebound, 
Phyllis  the  sweet  and  gentle  had  turned  and  flown  to  me,  as  if 
for  refuge,  like  a  homing  dove  threatened  by  a  hawk. 

"Brother  dear,"  she  whispered,  "may  I  walk  with  you, 
please  ?  Freule  Menela  says  there  is  something  she  has  been 
wanting  all  day  to  talk  over  with  Mr.  van  Buren ;  so  I  thought 
I  had  better  leave  them  alone,  and  drop  behind  with  you  —  if 
you  don't  mind  having  me  ?" 

"Mind!"  I  echoed  in  my  turmoil  of  spirit.  "It's  a  happy 
relief." 

"I  thought  you  seemed  quite  fascinated  by  Freule  Menela," 
exclaimed  the  poor  innocent  one  "I  asked  Mr.  van  Buren  if 
he  were  not  jealous." 

"How  unkind  of  you !" 

"I  didn't  mean  to  be  unkind  —  at  least,  I  hope  I  didn't," 
said  Phyllis.  "Only,  do  you  know,  dear  brother  —  since  I  am 
to  confide  my  real  feelings  to  you  —  I'm  never  quite  sure  of 
myself  where  that  girl  is  concerned.  I  can't  stand  her.  I'm 
so  sorry  for  poor  Mr.  van  Buren.  What  do  you  suppose  he 
answered  when  I  asked  him  that  question  about  being  jealous 
of  you  —  that  rather  naughty  question  ?  He  said,  'Would  to 
Heaven  she  were  his,  not  mine ! ' ' 

Had  I  been  on  St.  Lawrence's  gridiron,  I  could  not  have 
helped  chortling. 

"I'm  not  at  all  sure  she  isn't,"  I  muttered,  under  my  breath ; 
but  Phyllis  caught  the  words. 


RONALD  LESTER  STARR'S  POINT  OF  VIEW  337 

"What  do  you  mean  ?"  she  gasped.  "Oh,  it  can't  be  you 
mean  anything,  do  you  ?" 

"Well,  anyhow,  I  mean  that  it's  very  likely  she  won't  long  be 
his, "  I  explained,  fired  with  anxiety  to  please  the  girl  at  any  cost. 

"It  sounds  too  glorious  to  be  true.  It  can't  be  true!  But 
if  it  could !  It's  no  use  saying  I  wouldn't  be  glad  —  for  poor 
Mr.  van  Buren's  sake;  he's  so  much  too  nice  for  her  — 
mercenary,  conceited,  selfish  little  creature." 

"Right,  on  every  count,"  said  I. 

"I  don't  quite  understand  you,"  said  Phyllis.  "But  I  can't 
help  feeling  that,  if  anything  splendid  does  happen,  it  will  be 
all  through  you  —  somehow.  You  promised  me,  didn't  you  ? 
—  well,  I  don't  know  exactly  what  you  promised ;  but  it  made 
me  feel  happy  and  sure  everything  would  come  out  well,  that 
night  when  you  said  you'd  like  to  have  me  for  a  sister." 

"Did  I  say  that  ?"  I  asked  in  surprise. 

"Didn't  you  ?  I  thought " 

"Go 'on  thinking  so,  then,"  I  sighed;  "and  anything  else 
that  will  make  you  happy  —  little  sister. " 

"Thank  you.  Now  I  know,  by  the  mysterious  way  you're 
looking  at  me,  that  you  have  done  something.  I  believe  you 
made  him  —  I  mean  Mr.  van  Buren  —  come  to  see  us  again 
sooner  than  he  intended  to." 

"Perhaps.  And  perhaps  I  made  him  bring  Freule  Menela 
with  him." 

"Did  you  ?  I  wish  —  but  no.  I  mustn't  think  of  that. " 

"Wait  a  few  hours  and  then  think  what  you  like,"  said  I. 
Yet  I  spoke  gloomily.  I  could  see  where  the  Viking  was  to 
come  in.  But  I  could  not  so  clearly  see  how  I  was  to  get  out. 

We  walked  a  very  long  way  before  any  one  seemed  to 
wonder  where  we  were  going,  and  why  we  should  be  going 
there;  but  at  last  we  came  to  a  tea-garden,  or  a  beer-garden, 
or  both;  and  the  L.C.P.  said  that  we  must  stop  and  give  Tibe 
a  bowl  of  milk. 


338  THE   CHAPERON 

Not  a  member  of  the  party  who  did  not  appear  singular 
ly  absent-minded,  on  stopping  and  grouping  with  the  others 
again,  not  excepting  Tibe  himself;  but  his  absent-mindedness 
was  caused  only  by  the  antics  of  a  water-rat,  which  he  would 
have  liked  to  see  added  to  his  milk.  When  it  occurred  to  him 
to  drink  the  milk,  unenriched  by  such  an  addition,  we  were  all 
eating  pink  and  white  ices,  and  Dutch  cakes  that  must  have 
been  delicious  to  those  who  had  no  Freule  Menela  sticking  in 
their  throats. 

Phyllis  walked  beside  me  all  the  way  back  to  the  hotel, 
and  was  dearer  than  ever  now  that,  through  my  own  quixotic 
act,  I  saw  her  rapidly  becoming  unattainable.  But,  as  the 
ladies  said  good-night  to  us  at  the  foot  of  the  stairs,  Freule 
van  der  Windt  contrived  to  whisper,  as  she  slipped  her  hand 
into  mine  —  "For  better  for  worse,  I've  taken  your  advice, 
M*.  Starr.  I  am  absolutely  free. " 

"How  did  you  manage  it  ?"  I  heard  myself  asking. 

"Robert  insisted  on  living  in  Rotterdam.  He  wouldn't 
even  consent  to  winter  at  The  Hague,  though  it's  so  near;  so 
his  blood  is  on  his  own  head." 

"And  joy  in  his  heart,"  I  might  have  added.  But  I  did 
not  speak  at  all. 

"Haven't  you  anything  to  say?"  she  asked  coyly;  though 
her  eyes,  as  they  fixed  mine,  were  not  coy,  but  eager;  and  I 
felt,  eerily,  that  she  was  wondering  whether  the  millions,  of 
which  she'd  heard,  were  in  English  pounds  or  American 
dollars. 

I  hesitated.  If  I  replied  "Nothing,"  she  would  probably 
snatch  Robert  back  from  Phyllis  lips,  and  I  had  not  gone 
so  far  along  the  path  of  villainy  to  fail  my  Burne-Jones  Angel 
now. 

"I  will  tell  you  what  I  have  to  say  to-morrow,"  I  answered, 
in  a  low  voice ;  and  then  I  am  afraid  that,  to  be  convincing,  I 
almost  squeezed  her  hand. 


XXX 

WE  were  called  early  in  the  morning,  to  take  the 
twins   and    Freule   Menela  —  the   fiancee   no 
longer  —  for  a  drive  through  Utrecht,  to  see 
the  beautiful  parks  and  the  Cathedral  before 
starting  on  the  day's  journey.  Since  the  making  of  this  plan, 
however,  many  things  were  changed.    Robert  and  Menela 
were  both  "disengaged,"  arid  how  they  would  think  it  de 
corous  to  behave  to  each  other,  how  the  twins  would  treat 
the  lady  (if  the  truth  had  been  revealed),  remained  to  be 
seen.  If  I  had  had  no  personal  interest  at  stake,  I  should 
have  found  pleasure  in  the  situation,  and  in  watching  how 
things  shaped  themselves;  but,  as  it  was,  I  realized  that  I 
might  be  one  of  the  things  to  be  shaped,  and  that  I  should  be 
lucky  if  I  were  allowed  to  shape  myself. 

I  thought  it  well  to  be  late  to  breakfast,  lest  the  erstwhile 
fiancee  and  I  should  meet  en  tete-a-tete',  and  it  was  evident, 
at  a  glance,  that  Lisbeth  and  Lilli  already  knew  all.  The 
admirable  Menela  had  probably  told  them  in  their  bedroom 
over  night,  thus  giving  the  pair  plenty  of  solid  food  for 
dreams;  and  the  pretty  creatures  were  pale,  self-conscious, 
and  nervous,  not  knowing  how  to  bear  themselves  after  the 
earthquake  which  had  shaken  the  relationship  of  years. 

Robert  also  was  uneasy;  but,  to  my  regret,  emotion  en 
hanced  his  good  looks.  What  I  had  done  had  not  been  done 
for  his  benefit.  I  had  not  jeopardized  my  happiness  to  make 
him  more  attractive,  to  give  fire  to  his  eyes,  and  an  expression 
of  manly  self-control  striving  with  passion,  to  his  already  ab 
surdly  perfect  features.  Though,  plainly,  he  was  undergoing 

339 


340  THE   CHAPERON 

some  mental  crisis,  he  held  his  feelings  so  well  in  leash  that 
no  outsider  could  have  judged  whether  he  were  the  saddest  or 
the  happiest  of  men,  and  his  sisters  watched  him  anxiously, 
hoping  to  receive  a  guiding  clue  for  their  own  behavior. 

As  for  Freule  Menela,  she  was  as  composed  as  ever, 
and  had  a  self-satisfied  air,  as  though,  having  slept  on  it, 
she  was  more  pleased  than  ever  with  the  course  she  had 
adopted. 

Phyllis  knew  nothing  yet,  except  what  she  had  gleaned 
from  me  last  night,  I  was  sure  of  that;  but  I  was  not  so  sure 
about  Alb,  who  wore  a  clouded  brow.  Whether  he  was  worry 
ing  over  his  own  affairs,  or  whether  friend  Robert  had  com- 
mandered  his  hero's  sympathy,  I  could  not  guess,  and  dared 
not  ask.  Nor  had  I  much  time  to  speculate  upon  Alb's  busi 
ness,  for  I  saw  by  Freule  Menela's  eye  that  my  own  was  press 
ing,  and  all  my  energies  were  bent  in  steering  clear  of  her 
during  the  good-by  excursion  through  Utrecht. 

Luckily,  the  party  distributed  itself  in  two  carriages,  and 
though  I  could  not  resist  the  fair  Menela's  "Come  with  me, 
Mr.  Starr,"  fortunately  the  L.C.P.  jumped  in  with  Tibe, 
whose  mood  was  so  obstreperous  that  clearly  he  did  not  find 
canal  life  relaxing.  Then  arose  a  discussion  between  Nell 
and  Phyllis  as  to  which  should  sit  in  the  other  carriage,  and 
Nell  came  to  us,  wishing,  perhaps,  to  avoid  Alb,  whose  society 
seems  of  late  to  cast  a  blight  of  silence  upon  her. 

"Now,"  said  I  to  myself,  "if  the  late  fiancee  can't  wind 
her  tentacles  round  a  new  victim  in  this  vehicle,  neither  can 
Robert  escape  her  toils  by  proposing  to  Phyllis  in  that  one, 
surrounded  by  his  family  circle.  If  he  doesn't  seize  his  chance 
soon,  he'll  miss  it  forever;  because  once  his  Freule  discovers 
that  she  isn't  to  be  claimed  by  another,  she'll  find  it  conven 
ient  to  change  her  mind  about  life  in  Rotterdam.  I  may  be 
saint  —  or  villain  —  enough  to  keep  her  dangling  till  sunset ; 
but  then,  at  latest,  I  shall  have  to  cut  her  down;  and  woe  to 


RONALD  LESTER  STARR'S  POINT  OF  VIEW  341 

any  Viking  who  happens  to  lie  about  loose  and  unattached, 
when  she  falls  to  earth  with  a  dull  thud. " 

Far  be  it  from  the  clever  lady  of  The  Hague  to  admit  that 
there  was  a  place  on  earth  of  which  she  did  not  know  every 
thing;  and  though  I  have  reason  to  believe  that  she  never  saw 
Utrecht  till  yesterday,  she  was  so  busy  telling  us  about  it  that 
we  were  behind  the  others  in  arriving  on  board  "Mascotte," 
our  appointed  rendezvous. 

I  noticed  instantly  that  Phyllis  was  not  on  deck,  helping  Alb 
to  entertain  the  twins,  as  her  kind  soul  would  have  prompted 
her  to  do.  Of  course,  she  might  be  below,  in  one  of  the  cabins; 
but  where  was  Robert  ?  It  was  a  coincidence  that  he,  too, 
should  be  missing.  Yet  no  one  attempted  to  offer  an  explana 
tion.  Lilli  and  Lisbeth  merely  looked  flurried  and  pink  when 
Freule  Menela  came  airily  on  board  with  me,  and  Alb  ap 
peared  interested  in  giving  instructions  to  Hendrik,  who  dis 
puted  respectfully  with  Tibe  possession  of  countless  yards  of 
his  beloved  cotton  waste. 

At  last,  however,  I  began  to  wonder  why  we  did  not  get 
away.  The  day's  trip  was  to  be  a  return  to  Amsterdam,  not 
with  the  object  of  reviving  impressions  of  that  city,  but  for  the 
pleasure  of  the  run  through  the  River  Vecht,  which  Alb  praised 
as  the  prettiest  stream  in  the  Netherlands,  and  named  a 
miniature  Thames.  It  was  ten  o'clock,  and,  as  usual,  we  were 
timed  to  start  at  ten ;  but  I  did  not  consider  it  my  place  to  ask 
the  reason  why,  or  any  other  question  about  starting.  Mine, 
but  to  do  or  die  —  and  keep  out  of  reach  of  Freule  Menela. 

It  was  through  Nell  that  the  mystery  was  solved,  as  we 
stood  chatting  on  deck. 

"Where's  Phil  ?"  she  inquired  of  the  twins. 

"Gone  back  to  the  hotel  to  find  something  she  forgot  to 
pack,"  said  Lilli. 

"And  brother  Robert  has  taken  her,"  said  Lisbeth,  with  a 
fleeting  glance  at  the  self-deposed  fiancee 


342  THE   CHAPERON 

This  revelation  of  Phyllis's  diplomacy  came  upon  me  with 
a  shock.  She  is  such  a  simple-minded  Angel;  but  I  suppose 
all  girls  are  alike  in  some  ways.  And  she  is  so  kind-hearted, 
she  must  have  been  anxious  to  put  Robert  out  of  his  misery  as 
soon  as  she  could.  Well,  she  couldn't  have  done  it  much  sooner. 

"There  they  come,"  cried  Lilli.  And  perhaps  I  should  have 
been  tempted  to  search  their  faces  for  news  if  Freule  Menela 
had  not  turned  her  back  upon  the  advancing  figures,  and 
begun  to  talk,  with  an  air  of  proprietorship,  to  me. 

"It's  found!"  cried  Phyllis,  to  all  whom  it  might  concern. 
"I  was  so  —  fond  of  it,  I  should  have  hated  losing  it.  And  it 
was  so  kind  of  Mr.  van  Buren  to  help  me." 

I  wondered  whether  there  were  others  on  board  beside 
myself  who  detected  in  this  announcement  a  double  meaning  ? 
Something  in  her  voice  told  me  that  she  really  was  thankful 
not  to  have  lost  the  thing  of  which  she  was  so  fond,  the  thing 
for  which  she  had  gone  back  to  the  hotel,  the  thing  Mr.  van 
Buren  had  kindly  helped  her  to  find.  But  there  was  no  chance 
for  a  self-sacrificing  brother  to  question  his  sister.  Freule 
Menela  saw  to  that. 

It  was  my  luck  at  its  worst,  to  be  torn  in  my  mind  on  this 
exquisite  day  on  the  Vecht.  Once  in  a  while  it  dimly  comes 
back  to  me  that,  in  a  past  existence  unbrightened  by  Nell  Van 
Buren  and  Phyllis  Rivers,  I  came  to  Holland  with  the  object 
of  painting  pictures.  Never,  since  my  arrival  in  the  bright 
little  country  of  wide  spaces,  have  I  had  a  keener  incentive  to 
improve  the  shining  hours ;  but  how  can  a  man  remember  that 
he's  an  artist  when  the  girl  he  loves  has  engaged  herself  to 
another  man,  and  one  of  the  few  girls  he  never  could  love  is 
rapidly  engaging  herself  to  him  ? 

It  was  in  self-defense,  not  a  real  desire  for  work,  that  I 
fled  to  "Waterspin"  and  screened  myself  behind  easel  and 
canvas.  And  then  it  was  but  to  find  that  I  had  jumped  from 
the  frying-pan  into  the  fire. 


RONALD  LESTER  STARR'S  POINT  OF  VIEW  343 

My  move  was  made  while  "Mascotte"  and  her  fat  compan 
ion  lay  at  rest,  that  Alb  might  buy  fruit  for  us  from  a  fruit 
boat;  and  Freule  Menela  also  availed  herself  of  the  quiet 
interval. 

"May  I  come  and  watch  you  paint  ?"  she  asked,  in  a  tone 
which  showed  that  vanity  made  her  sure  of  a  welcome. 

I  longed  for  the  brutal  courage  to  say  that  I  could  never 
work  with  an  audience;  but  I  remembered  letting  slip  last 
night  the  fact  that  I  constantly  sat  sketching  on  the  deck  of 
"Mascotte,"  during  the  most  crowded  hours  of  life. 

I  murmured  something,  with  a  smile  which  needed  oiling; 
and,  accepting  the  grudging  help  of  my  hand,  she  floated 
across  with  an  affected  little  scream. 

"I  saw  a  lovely  picture  you  painted  for  Miss  Rivers,"  she 
said,  when  she  was  settled  in  a  camp-stool  at  my  side.  "Will 
you  do  one  for  me  ?" 

"With  pleasure,"  I  answered.  "This  one  shall  be  for  you. 
But  if  you  want  it  to  be  good,  we  mustn't  talk.  I  shall  have  to 
concentrate  my  mind  on  my  work." 

"Thanks  for  the  compliment,"  she  laughed.  "I  give  you 
leave  to  forget  me  —  for  a  little  while." 

So  I  did  my  best  to  take  her  at  her  word,  and  tried  impress 
ionist  sketches  of  the  charming  and  ever-changing  scene, 
upon  which  her  presence  was  the  sole  blot;  the  beautiful  old 
houses  set  back  from  the  river  on  flowery  lawns,  faded  coats- 
of-arms  glowing  red  and  blue  and  gold  over  quaint  doorways 
shaded  by  splendid  trees;  fairy  villas  rising  from  billows  of 
pink  peonies  and  green  hydrangeas;  humble  cottages,  with 
tiny  window-panes  of  twinkling  glass,  shining  out  from  bowers 
of  late  roses;  dove-gray  windmills  beckoning  across  piles  of 
golden  hay;  above,  clouds  like  flocks  of  snowy  sheep,  racing 
along  wide  sky-pastures,  blue  with  the  blue  of  forget-me-nots; 
below,  a  crystal  flood  foaming  white  with  water-lilies  that 
dipped  before  the  prow  of  our  advancing  boat. 


344  THE   CHAPERON 

Over  this  crust  of  pearl,  poised  always  long-stemmed, 
yellow  lilies,  like  hovering  butterflies;  and,  in  a  clear  space 
of  water,  each  little  wave  caught  the  sun  and  sky  reflection, 
so  that  it  seemed  rimmed  with  gold  and  set  with  a  big,  oval 
turquoise. 

"Well  —  have  I  pleased  you  ?"  Freule  Menela  asked  at  last. 

The  moment  had  come  for  an  understanding.  With  my 
two  hands,  unaided  I  had  saved  Phyllis,  and  now  I  must  save 
—  or  lose  —  myself.  Of  course  there  was  no  choice  which 
to  do.  I  had  played  my  fish  and  caught  it,  and  as  it  was  not 
the  kind  of  fish  I  liked  for  dinner,  I  must  tear  it  off  the  hook 
and  throw  it  back  into  the  sea,  wriggling.  I  told  myself  that  it 
was  a  bad,  as  well  as  an  unattractive  fish,  that  if  I  hadn't 
hooked  it,  most  surely  it  would  have  bolted  the  beautiful  little 
golden  minnow  I  had  been  protecting.  Still  —  still,  there  it 
was,  smiling  on  the  hook,  that  bad  fish,  trusting  the  hand 
which  had  caught  and  would  betray  it.  It  deserved  nothing 
of  that  hand  or  any  other  hand;  but  suddenly,  I  found  mine 
powerless. 

"Phyllis,  Phyllis,"  I  groaned  in  spirit,  "you  will  be  my 
death,  for  to  save  you  I  caught  this  fish;  now  I  may  have  to 
eat  it,  and  it  will  surely  choke  me. " 

Before  my  eyes  stretched  a  horrible  vista  of  years,  lived 
through  with  Freule  Menela  —  mean  little,  vain,  disloyal 
Freule  Menela  —  by  my  side,  contentedly  spending  my  money 
and  bearing  my  name,  while  I  faded  like  a  lovely  lily  on  the 
altar  of  self-sacrifice. 

In  another  instant  I  should  have  said  yes,  she  had  pleased 
me;  she  would  have  answered;  and  just  because  she  is  a  wo 
man  I  should  have  had  to  say  something  which  she  might 
have  taken  as  she  chose;  so  that  it  would  have  been  all  over 
for  Ronald  Lester  Starr;  but  at  this  moment  the  two  boats 
began  to  slow  down.  I  suppose  that  Toon,  at  the  steering- 
wheel  of  "Waterspin,"  must  have  received  a  message,  which  I 


"Well — have  I  pleased  you?"  Freule  Menela  asked  at 


RONALD  LESTER  STARR'S  POINT  OF  VIEW  345 

was  too  preoccupied  to  hear;  and  as  speed  slackened,  came 
the  voice  which  others  know  as  that  of  my  Aunt  Fay. 

Never  had  it  been  so  welcome,  sounded  so  sweet,  as  now, 
when  it  brought  my  reprieve. 

"Ronald  dear,"  cooed  the  mock-Scottish  accents,  "you'd 
better  get  ready  at  once  to  lunch  on  shore,  for  Jonkheer 
Brederode  has  another  surprise  for  us  —  and  I  know  that  by 
this  time  your  hands,  if  not  your  face,  are  covered  with  paint. " 

Wonderful  woman!  It  was  as  if  inspiration  had  sent  her 
to  my  rescue.  Not  that  I  am  at  all  sure  she  would  have  laid 
herself  out  to  rescue  me  from  any  snare,  had  she  known  of  its 
existence;  for  though,  before  the  watery  world  I  am  "Ronny 
dear"  to  her,  she  is  not  as  considerate  with  me  in  private  as 
she  used  to  be  when  we  first  started. 

We  have  been  frank  with  each  other  at  times,  the  L.C.P. 
and  I,  and  the  pot  has  said  in  plain  words  what  it  thinks  of  the 
kettle's  true  character.  When  the  time  comes  for  us  to  part  it 
may  be  that  her  little  ladyship  will  be  still  more  frank,  and  let 
me  know,  in  polite  language,  that  seeing  the  last  of  her  bor 
rowed  nephew  is  "good  riddance  of  bad  rubbish."  Neverthe 
less,  her  extraordinary,  though  indescribable,  cleverness  has 
woven  a  kind  of  web  about  us  all;  and  whether  I  am  able  to 
respect  the  L.C.P.  or  not,  I  was  conscious  of  passionate  gra 
titude  to  her  as  she  arrested  me  with  the  bad  fish  half-way  to 
my  mouth. 

The  boats  stopped  at  a  private  landing,  small,  but  so  re 
markable  that  I  thought  for  an  instant  the  whole  thing  must 
be  an  optical  illusion. 

We  had  come  to  rest  in  the  deep  shadow  of  enormous  trees. 
Leaning  over  the  rail  of  a  snug  little  harbor  two  dummy  men 
in  rakish  hats  and  dark  coats  stared  at  the  new  arrivals  with 
lack-luster  eyes.  And  the  dummies,  and  the  wooden  wall  on 
which  they  were  propped,  with  a  strange  painted  motto  con 
sisting  of  snakes,  and  dogs,  and  sticks,  and  a  yard  measure, 


346  THE   CHAPERON 

were  all  repeated  with  crystal-clear  precision  in  the  green 
mirror  of  quiet  water. 

"How  annoying,  just  as  we  were  going  to  have  another 
delicious  talk!"  exclaimed  Menela. 

"Yes,"  said  I.  "But  it  can't  be  helped.  Where  are  we  ?  Is 
this  fairyland  ?" 

"It  must  be  the  place  of  Heer  Dudok  de  Wit,"  answered 
the  young  lady,  snappily.  "He  is  a  wonderful  man,  and  many 
people  say  that  no  visit  to  Holland  can  be  complete  without  a 
visit  to  his  house.  He's  a  great  character  —  has  walked  all  over 
the  world,,  and  brought  back  curiosities  for  his  museum,  to 
which  he  gives  free  admission.  And  from  what  I  hear,  there 
is  nothing  else  he  won't  give,  if  asked  for  it  —  he's  so  generous 
—  from  a  night's  lodging  or  all  his  best  peaches,  up  to  a  pre 
sent  of  a  thousand  gulden  to  a  distressed  stranger.  This  can 
be  no  other  house  than  his;  and  I  believe  Rudolph  Bred  erode 
is  a  far-off  cousin  of  Heer  de  Wit,  just  as  Rudolph  is  of  mine, 
on  the  other  side.  I  don't  see  our  host,  though.  Perhaps  he  is 
away  on  one  of  his  walking  tours." 

"Or  in  bed,"  said  I.  "Taking  a  noon-day  nap,  to  forget 
the  heat." 

"No,  for  one  of  his  peculiarities  is,  never  to  go  to  bed.  He 
hasn't  been  in  bed  for  twenty-five  years.  I  don't  know  how  he 
sleeps  —  but,  look !  there  he  is  now.  I  recognize  him  from 
photographs  in  newspapers." 

My  eyes  followed  her  nod,  which  appeared  to  be  aimed  at 
the  river.  I  looked  for  a  boat,  but  spied  a  head  floating  among 
water-lilies. 

It  was  not  a  loose  head  of  some  early  Dutch  martyr  mi 
raculously  preserved  —  as  seemed  possible  in  a  place  of  such 
surprises  —  for  it  smiled  and  bowed,  and  addressed  Brederode 
as  its  dear  Rudolph. 

It's  wet  hair,  glittering  like  silver  in  the  water,  was  rather 
long,  it's  eyes  were  like  brown  jewels,  it  had  faultless  features, 


RONALD  LESTER  STARR'S  POINT  OF  VIEW  347 

not  at  all  of  a  modern  cast,  but  like  those  one  sees  in  a  seven 
teenth-century  portrait;  and  it's  smile,  even  when  visible  only 
as  far  down  as  the  lower  lip,  was  charming. 

The  famous  Mr.  Dudok  de  Wit,  bobbing  nearer,  explained 
that  he  had  unduly  prolonged  his  daily  swimming  bath,  owing 
to  the  sultriness  of  the  day.  As  it  was,  he  had  been  in  the  water 
no  more  than  an  hour  or  two,  but  he  was  delighted  to  see  us, 
would  come  out  at  once,  and  expect  us  to  lunch  with  him  at 
Breukelen,  which  is  the  name  of  his  place. 

He  did  come  out,  in  a  neat  bathing-suit,  desiring  us  to 
follow  him  into  the  house,  where  we  might  amuse  ourselves 
until  he  was  dressed,  wandering  among  his  treasures  in  the 
drawing-room. 

The  luncheon  in  the  quaint  old  house,  the  stroll  through 
the  grounds  and  the  hour  in  the  museum,  were  among  Alb's 
successes;  but  I  was  past  grudging  it  to  him;  besides,  he 
flaunted  no  triumphant  airs.  Why  should  he,  when  Phyllis 
had  eyes  only  for  her  Viking,  and  Nell,  in  a  newly  developed 
appreciation  of  her  twin  cousins,  had  no  time  to  remember  his 
existence  ? 

I  did  think  that  she  might  have  stretched  out  a  hand  to 
save  me  from  Menela,  but  if  she  had  any  conception  of  what 
was  going  on,  she  thought  me  able  to  take  care  of  myself,  and 
I  should  have  been  left  to  the  tender  mercies  of  the  creature 
I  had  freed  had  it  not  been  for  the  L.C.P. 

During  the  afternoon,  when  we  had  left  Breukelen  and  were 
gliding  on,  along  the  lily-burdened  river  toward  Amsterdam, 
she  unobtrusively  made  it  her  business  to  protect  me  from  the 
sallies  of  the  enemy,  even  engaging  that  enemy  herself,  as  if 
she  were  my  squire  at  arms.  Now,  if  never  before,  she  was 
worth  her  weight  in  gold,  and  as  I  saw  her  politely  entangle 
the  unwilling  Menela  in  conversation,  I  vowed  to  buy  her  a 
present  worth  having  when  we  arrived  in  Amsterdam. 


XXXI 

WHEN  a  man  sacrifices  himself  for  a  woman,  he 
naturally  likes  to  have  the  satisfaction  of  know 
ing  that  he  has  made  a  success;  and  I  felt  that 
a  melancholy  pleasure  would  be  mine  should  I 
learn  that  Phyllis  had  profited  by  my  kindness.  It  would  have 
been  flattering  to  my  self-esteem,  also,  though  perhaps  dis 
astrous  to  my  ribs,  if  Robert  van  Buren  had  thrown  himself 
upon  my  bosom,  thanking  me  for  his  deliverance  from  bond 
age.  I  had  to  remind  myself  that  he  could  not  possibly  know 
what  he  owed  me,  or  I  should  have  been  unjust  enough  to 
accuse  him  of  ingratitude. 

A  heavy  shower  came  on  while  we  were  driving  in  open 
cabs  through  Amsterdam,  therefore  the  moment  we  arrived  at 
the  well-remembered  hotel  of  our  last  visit,  the  various  mem 
bers  of  the  band  had  to  skurry  off  to  their  rooms  and  change 
their  drenched  garments.  As  no  plan  of  campaign  had  been 
arranged  for  the  rest  of  the  day  —  it  was  then  past  five  —  we 
did  not  meet  again,  as  a  party,  until  dinner-time,  when  we 
all  came  together  with  the  exception  of  Brederode,  who 
absented  himself  to  dine  with  a  friend. 

It  was  the  first  time  that  he  had  been  away,  and  to  my 
surprise  I  discovered  that,  when  a  Mariner  has  carried  an 
Albatross  about  with  him  week  after  week,  he  actually  misses 
the  creature  if  he  mislays  it.  Somehow,  we  seemed  to  be  at 
loose  ends  without  Brederode.  Lacking  an  organizer,  nobody 
knew  what  to  do ;  and  if  he  had  wished  to  enhance  his  value,  he 
couldn't  have  chosen  a  better  way.  As  if  at  a  loss  for  any  other 
subject  of  common  interest,  we  fell  to  talking  of  the  absent  one 

348 


RONALD  LESTER  STARR'S  POINT  OF  VIEW  349 

—  all  save  Nell,  who  listened  in  silence,  not  once  joining  in 
until  Freule  Menela  capped  an  anecdote  of  Robert's  in  praise 
of  his  hero,  by  remarking  — 

"Of  course  Rudolph's  brave  enough;  but  that's  no  particu 
lar  credit  to  him.  All  Brederodes  have  been  brave,  since  the 
days  of  the  Water  Beggar.  But  I'm  afraid  he's  quite  aware  of 
that,  and  all  his  other  perfections.  He  is  rather  conceited,  and 
as  for  obstinacy  - 

Then  at  last  Nell  had  something  to  say  for  herself.  "Doesn't 
it  strike  you,"  she  asked  with  elaborate  sweetness,  "that  a 
person  may  have  self-respect  and  firmness  without  being 
either  obstinate  or  conceited  ?" 

"Well!"  exclaimed  Robert,  in  the  pause  which  followed, 
"that's  the  first  time  I've  ever  heard  you  defend  Rudolph, 
Cousin  Helen." 

"He  has  proved  himself  such  a  faithful  skipper  that  it's  my 
duty,  as  the  owner  of  the  boat,  to  defend  the  good  qualities 
which  have  served  us  best,"  replied  Nell,  looking  so  brilliantly 
pretty,  with  her  flushed  cheeks  and  sparkling  eyes,  that  I  felt 
there  might  still  be  consolations  in  life  for  me,  if  only  I  could 
attain  them. 

The  situation  was  now  becoming  strained  on  all  sides. 
Not  that  it  was  made  so  by  the  conversation  I  have  just  set 
down,  but  by  the  peculiar  relations  of  several  persons  in  the 
party. 

The  original  plan  of  the  Robert-Menela-Twins  visit  was 
that,  having  arrived  at  Utrecht,  they  should  be  taken  on  by  us 
to  Rotterdam,  before  "Mascotte"  and  "Waterspin"  bore  us 
northward  again  to  Zeeland.  This  roundabout  way  of  journey 
ing  was  the  penalty  of  our  beautiful  day  on  the  Vecht;  be 
cause,  to  see  the  Vecht  after  Utrecht,  we  were  obliged  to  land 
at  Amsterdam;  and  as  there  was  no  nearer  way  of  reaching 
Zeeland  than  by  passing  Rotterdam,  we  were  not  going  out  of 
our  way  in  landing  the  van  Buren  party  so  near  home.  But  to 


350  THE   CHAPERON 

go  by  canal  from  Amsterdam  to  Rotterdam  would  take  us  one 
long  day;  and  as  we  had  a  pair  of  severed  lovers  among  us, 
that  long  day's  association,  on  a  small  boat,  would  be  awk 
ward. 

The  obvious  thing  was  for  Robert  to  invent  a  pretext  and 
vanish.  But  Robert,  no  doubt,  had  his  own  reasons  for  wish 
ing  to  stay,  and  besides,  he  had  the  excuse  that  he  could  not 
go  without  taking  his  sisters.  If  his  sisters  went,  they  could 
not  well  leave  the  friend  they  had  brought  with  them;  neither 
did  it  seem  practicable  for  her  to  depart  in  their  company 
as  she  had  just  jilted  their  brother,  who  would  have  to  act  as 
escort  for  all  three.  This  difficulty  must  have  presented  itself 
to  Freule  Menela,  for  she  gave  no  indication  of  a  desire  to 
leave 'us.  Perhaps  she  thought  it  better  to  endure  the  ills  she 
knew  than  fly  to  others  she  knew  not;  and  by  way  of  accus 
toming  herself  to  those  ills,  she  kept  unremittingly  near  me, 
when,  after  dinner,  we  assembled  in  "Aunt  Fay's"  inevitable 
sitting-room. 

If  I  were  a  woman  I  should  have  been  on  the  verge  of 
hysterics,  but  being  handicapped  by  manhood,  I  merely 
yearned  to  bash  some  one  on  the  head  as  a  relief  to  my  feelings ; 
and  lest  that  some  one  should  be  Freule  Menela,  at  last  I  got 
to  my  feet  and  announced  my  intention  of  taking  a  walk  in 
the  rain. 

"What  wouldn't  I  give  to  go  with  you!"  exclaimed  the 
young  lady.  "It's  so  close  here,  and  I've  had  no  exercise  to 
day.  I  am  fond  of  walking  in  the  rain. " 

"I  will  chaperon  you,"  said  the  L.C.P. 

"Oh,  we  need  not  trouble  you,  Lady  MacNairne,"  protested 
Menela.  "It  might  give  you  rheumatism;  and  girls  in  Holland 
are  allowed  to  be  very  independent. " 

My  heart  sank.  How  could  even  the  ever  resourceful  L.C.P. 
get  round  that  sharp  corner  ? 

She  was  equal  to  it.  "You  are  very  considerate,"  she  re- 


RONALD  LESTER  STARR'S  POINT  OF  VIEW  351 

plied,  "but  I  am  old-fashioned  and  used  to  Scotch  ways; 
and  in  Scotland  even  elderly  persons  like  myself  are  used  also 
to  walking  in  the  rain,  otherwise  we  should  seldom  walk  at 
all.  Indeed,  we  rather  like  rain,  in  pleasant  company." 

With  this,  she  got  up  briskly,  and  it  was  as  a  trio  that  we 
had  our  wet  walk  through  the  streets  of  Amsterdam. 

The  shops  were  still  bright,  however,  and  I  stopped  my 
two  companions  under  their  dripping  umbrellas,  in  front  of  a 
window  blazing  with  a  display  of  jewelry. 

"Now,  what  should  you  say  was  the  most  beautiful  thing 
of  the  lot?"  I  asked. 

"That  ring,"  promptly  answered  Menela,  pointing  to  a 
pigeon-blood  cabuchon  ruby,  of  heart  shape,  set  with  clear 
white  diamonds. 

It  was  a  ring  for  a  lover  to  offer  to  his  lady. 

"You  are  right,"  agreed  the  L.C.P.  "There's  nothing  else  in 
the  window  to  touch  that." 

"Let's  go  in  and  buy  it,  then,"  I  said.  "I  have  a  friend  to 
whom  I  should  like  to  make  a  little  present." 

"Little  present!"  echoed  Menela.  "It  will  cost  you  three 
thousand  gulden  at  the  least." 

"That  is  not  too  costly,  considering  everything,"  said  I, 
mysteriously.  And  I  was  bubbling  with  malicious  joy,  as,  by 
right  of  purchase,  the  ring  became  mine.  "Each  one  of  them 
considers  it  as  good  as  hers,"  I  said  to  myself.  "To-morrow 
evening,  at  Rotterdam,  if  I  am  safely  spared  from  Freule 
Menela,  and  she  is  gone  out  of  my  life  forever,  that  ring  may 
change  hands;  but  it  won't  go  to  The  Hague." 

I  dreamed  all  night  that  I  was  pursued  by  Robert's  escaped 
fiancee,  and  dodging  her,  ran  into  the  arms  of  Sir  Alec  Mac- 
Nairne,  who  denounced  me  fiercely  as  a  murderer.  Nor  was 
there  much  relief  in  awaking;  for  I  knew  that  in  her  room, 
divided  from  me  only  by  a  friendly  wall  or  two,  Freule  Menela 
lay  planning  how  to  trap  me. 


352  THE   CHAPERON 

"If  I  am  to  be  saved,"  I  said  to  myself,  "I'm  afraid  it  won't 
be  by  my  own  courage  or  resource.  I  must  look  to  my  aunt. 
She  fought  for  me  nobly  all  day;  but  there  are  still  twelve 
hours  of  danger.  With  her  and  Menela  it's  a  case  of  Greek 
meeting  Greek.  Will  she  be  clever  enough  to  pull  me  through  ?" 


//  was  a  ring  for  a  lover  to  offer  to  his  lady 


XXXII 

I  KNEW  I  looked  haggard,  and  hoped  I  looked  interest 
ing,  when  I  appeared  in  the  big  hall  of  the  hotel  after 
breakfast  in  the  morning,  ten  minutes  before  the  time  at 
which  we  were  to  start  for  Rotterdam. 

There  were  the  twins,  talking  to  Nell.  There  was  Brede- 
rode,  studying  a  map  of  the  waterways;  there  was  the  L.C.P. 
teaching  Tibe  a  trick  which  for  days  he  had  been  mildly 
declining  to  learn;  there  were  Phyllis  and  the  Viking  wrapt 
in  each  other  in  the  seclusion  of  a  corner.  But  where  was 
Freule  Menela  ? 

I  asked  the  question  aloud,  and  self-consciously. 

"She's  gone,"  announced  the  lady  who  is  not  my  aunt. 

"Gone?"  I  echoed. 

"Yes,  home  to  The  Hague.  She  had  a  telegram,  and  was 
obliged  to  leave  at  once,  by  the  first  train,  instead  of  waiting 
to  travel  slowly  with  us. " 

"Oh !"  said  I;  adding,  hypocritically,  "What  a  pity !" 

The  small  and  rather  pretty  mouth  of  the  L.C.P.  arched 
upward,  so  I  suppose  she  smiled. 

"Yes,  isn't  it?  "said  she. 

Nobody  else  spoke,  but  I  felt  that  the  silence  of  Robert 
and  the  twins  was  more  eloquent  than  words. 

When  I  had  overcome  the  first  giddy  rapture  of  returning 
life,  and  was  sure  that  I  was  steady  on  my  feet,  I  dared  to 
dally  with  the  subject.  I  asked  if  bad  news  had  come  for 
Freule  Menela,  expressed  devout  relief  that  it  had  not,  and 
piped  regret  at  being  deprived  of  a  farewell. 

"She  left  a  message,"  explained  the  L.C.P.  "I  saw  her 

353 


354  THE   CHAPERON 

off  —  as  was  my  duty,  since  she  did  not  care  to  disturb  dear 
Nell,  so  early  in  the  morning.  You  see,  I  alone  was  in  her 
confidence.  I  knew,  last  night,  after  you  had  all  gone  to  bed, 
that  the  telegram  might  come,  and  I  promised  if  it  did,  to  go 
with  her  to  the  station.  Remind  me  to  give  you  the  message 
—  when  we've  started. " 

As  she  said  this,  I  felt  instinctively  that  I  should  have  seen 
deep  meaning  in  her  eyes,  were  they  not  hidden  by  their 
blue  glasses;  and  curiosity  to  know  the  worst  battled  with 
reluctance  to  hear  it.  Perhaps  it  was  well  that  at  this  moment 
Alb  gathered  us  for  a  start,  and  that  there  was  no  chance  for 
private  conversation  in  the  carriage,  which  took  Nell,  one  of 
the  twins,  and  the  Chaperon  with  me  to  the  Rowing  and 
Yachting  Club,  where  "Mascotte"  and  "Waterspin"  awaited 
us.  This  respite  gave  me  time  to  get  on  my  armor,  and  fasten 
up  several,  if  not  all  the  buckles  —  some  of  which  I  realized 
were  lamentably  weak. 

On  board,  there  was  the  usual  business  of  putting  our 
belongings  to  rights  after  an  absence  on  shore;  and  when 
I  came  on  to  "Mascotte"  from  "Waterspin,"  already  Amster 
dam  —  with  its  smoke  cloud  and  widespreading  mass  of 
buildings,  like  gray  bubbles  against  the  clear  sky  —  was  sink 
ing  out  of  sight.  We  were  teuf-teufing  comfortably  along  a 
modest  canal,  leading  us  southward,  and  Alb  was  explaining 
to  the  L.C.P.  and  the  van  Buren  girls  that,  to  reach  Rotter 
dam  by  the  shortest  way,  he  meant  to  avoid  the  places  we  had 
seen :  Aalsmeer,  with  its  menagerie  of  little  tree-animals,  and 
the  great  Haarlemmer-meer  Polder.  Suddenly,  as  the  motor's 
speed  increased,  after  taking  me  on,  Phyllis  left  Robert  and 
Nell,  to  come  to  my  side.  A  look  from  her  beautiful  eyes  warn 
ed  me  that  something  interesting  was  due,  and  by  one  accord, 
we  moved  as  far  as  possible  from  our  friends. 

"Best  of  brothers,"  she  whispered;  "I've  been  dying  to 
thank  you.  At  last  my  chance  has  come.  You  are  wonderful ! 


RONALD  LESTER  STARR'S  POINT  OF  VIEW  355 

You  said  you  would,  you  know,  and  that  I  was  to  trust  you ; 
but  I  never  thought  you  could.  How  did  you  do  it  ?" 

"With  my  little  hatchet,"  I  answered  dreamily. 

Her  eyes  opened  wide.  "Your  —  what  ?" 

"It  needed  a  sharp  instrument,"  said  I.  "But  how  did  you 
know  it  was  mine  ?" 

"You  were  with  her  so  much,  and  had  so  many  private 
talks.  I  felt  you  had  a  plan.  But  I  could  only  hope,  not  expect. 
Do  tell  me  everything. " 

"Suppose  you  tell  me  everything,"  I  bargained.  "We 
may  be  playing  at  cross  purposes.  What  has  happened  to 
you?" 

"I'm  engaged,"  said  Phyllis.  "Isn't  it  glorious  ?" 

"I  don't  know  that  I  should  go  so  far  as  to  say  that,"  I 
replied,  wondering  why  my  heart  was  not  aching  harder. 

"Perhaps,  then,  you've  never  been  in  love  ?"  she  suggested. 
"Oh,  haven't  I  ?  I've  been  in  nothing  else  lately  —  except 
hot  water. " 

"You  do  say  such  odd  things.  But  I  bless  you,  if  I  can't 
understand  you.  You've  made  me  so  happy. " 

"You  didn't  tell  me  you  were  in  love  with  Robert." 

"Of  course  not  —  then.  It  would  have  been  too  bold,  even 
to  tell  myself,  when  —  he  was  engaged  to  some  one  else.  But 
pity's  akin  to  love,  isn't  it  ?  And  there  was  no  harm  in  pitying 
him  because  he  was  bound  to  a  —  a  creature,  who  could  never 
deserve  his  love. " 

"Even  if  he  hadn't  given  it  to  you." 

"That  was  fate,  wasn't  it  ?  But  if  it  hadn't  been  for  my 
clever  brother,  we  could  never  have  belonged  to  each  other." 

"Some  men  are  born  brothers,  some  achieve  brotherhood, 
others  have  it  thrust  upon  them,"  I  muttered.  "You  and  he 
had  better  take  advantage  of  the  lull  to  be  married,"  I  said 
aloud. 

"The  lull?" 


356  THE   CHAPERON 

"In  Freule  Menela.  She'll  be  hailing  and  thundering  and 
lightning  soon." 

"Oh,  do  you  think  she'll  try  to  get  Robert  back  again  ?" 
gasped  Phyllis. 

"Unless  another  and  riper  fruit  drops  into  her  mouth." 

"As  if  it  would!  You  frighten  me.  Robert  did  beg  last 
night  that  I'd  marry  him  almost  at  once,  and  not  go  back 
to  England  —  unless  —  on  our  honeymoon.  I  told  him  I 
wouldn't  think  of  such  a  thing.  But  —  perhaps  —  oh,  we 
couldn't  lose  each  other  now.  I  do  believe  we  were  made  for 
one  another." 

"I  begin  to  believe  so,  too,"  said  I. 

And  as  that  belief  increased,  so  decreased  the  pain  of  my 
loss.  Phyllis  still  is,  and  ever  will  be,  a  Burne-Jones  Angel; 
and  when,  with  her  sleeves  rolled  up,  she  makes  cake  in  the 
six-foot-by-six  kitchen  of  "Waterspin,"  among  the  blue  china 
and  brasses,  she  is  enough  to  melt  the  heart  of  Diogenes. 
Nevertheless,  I  cannot  break  mine  at  losing  a  girl  who  was 
born  for  a  Robert  van  Buren.  After  all,  Nell  is  more  bewild- 
eringly  beautiful,  and  has  twice  Phyllis's  magnetism.  She 
has  too  fine  a  sense  of  humor  to  fall  in  love  with  a  man's  inches 
and  muscles.  That  one  speech  of  Phyllis's  taught  me  resigna 
tion,  and  showed  me  in  a  flash  that,  despite  her  charms,  she 
is  somewhat  early  Victorian. 

I  glanced  toward  Nell,  on  whose  brilliant  face  indifference 
to  her  good-looking  cousin  was  expressed,  as  she  stood  talking 
to  him  —  probably  about  himself  —  and  wondered  how,  for  a 
little  while,  my  worship  could  have  strayed  from  her  to  Phyllis. 
A  girl  born  for  Robert  van  Buren !  —  A  sense  of  calm,  beatific 
brotherliness  stole  through  my  veins.  Nell  had  never  been 
so  lovely  or  so  lovable,  and  I  resolved  to  find  out  from  my 
sister  if  she  still  thought  there  might  be  hope  for  me  in  that 
direction. 

"I  shouldn't  keep  Robert  waiting,"  I  went  on,  without  a 


RONALD  LESTER  STARR'S  POINT  OF  VIEW  357 

pang.  "There's  no  telling  what  Freule  Menela  mightn't  do. 
She's  clever  —  as  well  as  spiteful." 

"And  poor  Robert  is  so  honorable,"  sighed  Phyllis.  "If 
he'd  known  that  you  were  working  to  —  to  free  him,  he  might 
have  felt  it  was  a  plot,  and  have  refused  to  accept  his  release. 
You  don't  think  I  ought  to  tell  him,  do  you  ?" 

"Certainly  not,"  said  I.  "That's  our  secret." 

"How  good  you  are!  Well,  I'll  take  your  advice.  Yet  it 
does  seem  so  strange  —  to  be  married,  and  live  in  Holland, 
when  I  never  thought  that  anything  could  be  really  nice  out  of 
England.  But  Robert  seems  to  me  exactly  like  an  English 
man  :  that's  why  I  love  him  so  dreadfully." 

"And  I  suppose  you  seem  to  him  exactly  like  a  Dutch  girl: 
and  that's  why  he  loves  you  so  dreadfully,"  was  the  answer  in 
my  mind;  but  I  kept  it  there.  It  might  have  dashed  Phyllis's 
happiness  to  realize  this  truth. 

"If  I  let  Robert  make  arrangements  for  our  marriage  al 
most  at  once,  Freule  Menela  couldn't  get  him  back,  could 
she,  for  he  would  be  more  bound  to  me  than  he  ever  was  to 
her,"  said  my  sister. 

"In  that  line  alone  lies  safety,"  I  replied.  "Have  you  told 
Miss  Van  Buren  —  your  stepsister,  I  mean  ?" 

"Oh  yes,  as  soon  as  it  happened,  of  course.  Nell  and  I 
never  have  secrets  from  each  other  —  at  least,  we  haven't  till 
lately.  I  thought  she  would  have  guessed,  but  do  you  know, 
she  didn't?  She  fancied,  from  things  I'd  said,  that  I  was 
making  up  my  mind  to  —  that  is,  to  try  and  learn  to  care  for 
another  person.  She  disapproved  of  my  doing  that,  it  seems, 
which  is  the  reason  she's  been  so  odd.  Not  that  she  didn't 
consider  us  suited  to  each  other  —  the  other  one  and  I  —  but 
she  thought,  with  all  his  faults,  he  was  so  much  of  a  man  that 
it  wasn't  fair  for  a  girl  to  accept  his  love  if  she  had  to  try  and 
learn  to  care  for  him  simply  because  he  happened  to  be  there. 
I  see  now,  in  the  light  of  this  new  happiness,  that  she  was 


358  THE   CHAPERON 

quite  right.  But  I  didn't  dream  then,  that  the  one  man  I 
could  really  care  for,  could  ever  be  more  to  me  than  a  dear 
friend.  And  a  girl  feels  so  humiliated  to  be  thinking  of  a  man 
who's  engaged  to  some  one  else.  She  gets  the  idea  that  the 
best  thing  would  be  to  occupy  her  mind  with  another  man, 
if  there's  anybody  who  likes  her  very  much.  And  Lady  Mac- 
Nairne  has  always  been  hinting  this  last  fortnight  —  but, 
oh  no,  I'm  not  thinking  what  I'm  saying !  Even  though  you 
are  my  brother,  I've  no  right  to  tell  you  that." 

"Sister,  I  insist  that  you  shall  tell  me,"  I  said,  with  all 
my  native  fierceness.  And  Phyllis  is  not  a  girl  to  rebel,  if  a 
male  person  commands. 

"Well,  then  —  but  she  is  perhaps  mistaken.  I  hope  now 
that  she  is." 

"In  thinking  what?" 

"That  —  that  Jonkheer  Brederode  cares  more  for  me  than 
for  Nell." 

"I  wonder,"  said  I. 

"Oh  course,"  went  on  Phyllis  modestly,  "Nell's  a  hundred 
times  prettier  and  more  interesting  than  I  am  (though,  thank 
goodness,  Robert  doesn't  think  so),  but  she  snubbed  the 
Jonkheer  so  dreadfully  at  first,  and  then,  after  she'd  changed 
and  been  nice  to  him  for  a  day  or  two,  she  got  worse  than  ever. 
At  least,  she  hardly  ever  speaks  to  him  at  all.  She  just  keeps 
out^of  his  way,  and  leaves  him  to  —  others.  So  his  self-respect 
may  have  been  hurt  (I  can't  say  vanity  as  I  might  with  some 
men,  because  Jonkheer  Brederode  isn't  a  bit  vain,  though  he 
has  a  right  to  be)  and  he  may  have  turned  his  thoughts  to 
ward  one  who  sympathized  with  him.  Several  little  things 
lately  have  looked  as  if  it  were  so;  but  I  do  pray  it's  not,  now 
that  I'm  so  happy.  It  would  be  too  hard  if  he  were  to  bear  a 
double  disappointment,  after  the  trouble  he  has  taken,  and 
the  sacrifices  he  has  made  —  leaving  his  beautiful  home  and 
all  its  luxuries,  and  the  friends  who  appreciate  him  as  a 


RONALD  LESTER  STARR'S  POINT  OF  VIEW  359 

splendid  fellow  and  a  grand  sportsman,  to  be  skipper  week 
after  week  on  this  little  boat." 

"You  forget  that  he  has  had  the  privilege  of  my  society," 
I  reminded  her. 

"Oh  yes,  I  know  you  must  be  great  chums,  or  he  wouldn't 
have  come.  But  Robert  says J 

"What  does  Robert  say  ?" 

"Nothing.  Only  that  he  and  Jonkheer  Brederode  have 
known  each  other  so  long,  he  thinks  it  odd  never  to  have 
heard  him  mention  your  name  as  his  friend." 

"Alb  is  singularly  reserved,"  I  remarked. 

"So  I  said  to  Robert,  and  he  admitted  it.  But  it  was  rather  a 
coincidence  that  he  wanted  to  know  us,  wasn't  it  ?  However, 
I  suppose  your  friendship  must  have  made  up  to  him  for 
everything  he's  suffered.  I  did  dread  his  learning  about 
Robert  and  me,  for  fear  it  might  hurt  him,  and  Robert  did 
too,  a  little;  for  Robert  is  so  adorably  foolish,  he  thinks  every 
one  must  care  for  me.  But  he  told  him  this  morning. " 

"What  did  Alb  say  ?"  I  asked. 

"He  congratulated  Robert  as  sweetly  as  possible;  but  Rob 
ert  said  his  face  changed  when  he  heard  the  news.  I  didn't 
dare  to  look  up  when  the  Jonkheer  came  and  made  me  nice 
wishes,  for  fear  he  might  be  looking  sad;  and  there  was  a 
heavy  sound  in  his  voice,  I  thought.  Oh  dear,  life's  very 
complicated,  isn't  it  ?" 

"Yes,"  I  admitted.  "Even  in  Holland." 

Perhaps  these  women  are  right.  Perhaps  Alb's  heart  has 
been  caught  in  the  rebound;  but,  lest  it  hasn't,  and  he  under 
takes  to  cut  me  out  with  Nell,  it  is  necessary  that  I  lose  no 
time  in  using  my  best  wiles  with  her. 

While  Phyllis  was  hanging  in  the  balance,  she  was  as 
desirable  as  a  rosy  apple  just  out  of  reach;  but  now  that  she 
is  smugly  satisfied  to  be  in  the  hands  of  another  her  ethereal 
charm  is  fled. 


360  THE   CHAPERON 

"I  must  congratulate  van  Buren,"  I  said,  "or  he  will  believe 
I'm  jealous." 

So  I  shook  hands  with  the  Viking,  having  blessed  the  pair, 
and  was  in  the  act  of  annexing  Nell  when  the  alleged  Lady 
MacNairne  found  it  convenient  to  give  me  Freule  Menela's 
message. 

"You  wanted  to  hear  it,  didn't  you  ?"  she  asked,  when 
Nell  had  drifted  away  to  the  twins,  whose  society,  though  not 
enlivening,  she  apparently  preferred  to  poor  Alb's. 

"I've  waited  so  long,  that  I  could  have  waited  a  little 
longer,"  I  said,  following  the  copper-gold  head  with  wist 
ful  eyes. 

"This  is  your  gratitude!"  exclaimed  the  L.C.P.  "You 
don't  seem  to  realize  that  I've  saved  you." 

I  looked  at  her,  only  to  be  baffled  as  usual  by  the  blue 
barrier  of  glass. 

"You  don't  deserve  all  the  trouble  I've  taken,"  she  went 
on.  "Or  that  I  should  tell  you  anything  about  it'.  Come,  Tibe, 
let's  go  below.  Darling  doggie,  you've  spoiled  me  for  every 
body  else.  You  are  always  appreciative.  Nobody  else  is." 

"You  think  that,  because  he  happens  to  have  a  tail  to  wag, 
and  others  haven't,"  said  I.  "I  consider  myself  as  good  as 
Tibe,  any  day,  though  handicapped  in  some  ways.  I'll  soon 
show  you  that  I'm  not  ungrateful,  when  you've  let  me  know 
exactly  what  cause  I  have  for  gratitude.  Have  you  murdered 
the  late  fiancee,  and  thrown  her  out  of  your  hotel  window  into 
the  canal?" 

"I've  got  rid  of  her  just  as  effectively,"  returned  the  L.C.P. 
"I  went  and  talked  to  her  in  her  room  last  night,  when  she 
was  undressing.  Ugh!  but  she  was  plain  in  her  wrapper.  It 
was  a  pink  flannellet  one.  Imagine  it,  with  her  skin." 

"I'd  rather  not,"  said  I. 

"If  it  weren't  for  me,  probably  you'd  often  have  had  to  see 
her  in  it.  Well,  I  made  an  excuse  that  she'd  looked  tired,  and 


RONALD  LESTER  STARR'S  POINT  OF  VIEW  361 

complained  of  the  noise  under  her  windows  preventing  her 
sleeping.  I  offered  her  some  trional,  and  then  —  I  just  linger 
ed.  She  thought  it  wise  to  be  nice  to  —  your  aunt,  and  I  turned 
the  conversation  to  you.  She  said  you  were  charming.  I  said 
you  would  be,  if  you  hadn't  such  a  terrible  temper.  I  said  you 
were  almost  mad  with  it  sometimes,  when  you  were  a  little 
boy.  Yes,  I  did,  really  —  you  ought  to  thank  me.  I  dare  say 
you  were  a  horrid  little  boy.  But  she  didn't  seem  to  mind  that 
much.  She  told  me  that  she  got  along  splendidly  with  bad- 
tempered  people:  they  were  always  nice  to  her.  That  dis 
couraged  me  a  tiny  bit,  but  I  hadn't  played  any  really  high 
trumps  yet.  I  went  on  to  say  you  were  very  delicate,  but  she 
seemed  quite  pleased  at  that,  although,  if  she  only  knew  it, 
she'd  be  hideous  in  black.  She  said  she  thought  delicate  men 
were  the  most  interesting,  so  that  drove  me  to  desperation, 
and  after  I'd  praised  you  a  little,  just  enough  to  be  realistic 
for  an  aunt,  I  said  what  a  shame  it  was  about  that  will  of  your 
father's.  She  pricked  up  her  ears  then,  and  wanted  to  know 
what  I  meant.  '  Hasn't  he  told  you  ?'  I  asked.  And  I  was 
shocked  to  hear  you  hadn't,  because,  I  said,  it  would  be  more 
honest  to  let  people  know  how  one  stood,  the  position  being 
so  peculiar.  Your  father  had  left  every  red  cent  away  from 
you,  I  said,  in  case  you  married  a  foreigner;  and  it  was  such 
a  blow  that  she  didn't  even  notice  that  I'd  committed  an 
Americanism.  She  couldn't  speak  for  a  whole  minute,  and 
then  she  asked  if  you  hadn't  tried  to  dispute  the  will.  That 
would  have  been  no  use,  said  I.  It  wasn't  the  kind  you  could 
dispute.  You  often  fell  in  love  with  girls,  not  Americans,  but 
you  were  bound  to  marry  a  compatriot  in  the  end,  unless  you 
could  find  a  foreigner  with  enough  money  to  support  you. 
Even  after  all  that  she  held  on  to  you  by  the  ragged  edge. 
Couldn't  you  make  a  lot  of  money,  she  asked,  with  your 
pictures,  which  are  so  famous  ?  They  weren't  popular,  I  said, 
and  though  the  critics  always  praise  them,  you  could  hardly 


362  THE   CHAPERON 

ever  sell.  ' Besides/  said  I,  'he's  so  lazy,  he  doesn't  paint  a 
decent-sized  picture  once  in  three  years/  ;: 

"Good  heavens!"  I  exclaimed.  "What  a  character  you 
gave  me.  It's  a  wonder  she  didn't  rush  to  Robert  van  Buren's 
door,  and  cry  to  him  that  she'd  reconsidered." 

"I  saved  him,  too,  for  Phyllis's  sake.  It  was  too  late  for  her 
to  go  to  him  at  that  hour,  or  even  send  a  note,  as  I  saw  by  her 
eye  she  thought  of  doing.  I  stayed  with  her  till  after  twelve, 
on  purpose.  And  the  last  thing  I  said  was,  that  I  thought  her 
decision  not  to  accept  Mr.  van  Buren  so  wise,  as  such  an  in 
telligent  woman  as  she  might  marry  any  one.  It  showed,  said 
I,  how  undeserving  he  was,  that  the  minute  she  took  herself 
from  him,  he  asked  another  girl  to  be  his  wife.  *  Has  he  ? ' 
she  almost  screamed.  'Yes,'  said  I.  '  Didn't  you  know  ?  He 
is  now  engaged  to  Miss  Rivers,  with  the  approval  of  his 
sisters,  and  a  telegram  has  been  sent  to  his  mother,  telling  her 
all.1 " 

This  was  news  worth  hearing,  and  I  forgave  the  L.C.P.  the 
inopportuneness  of  her  interruption  with  Nell 

"Who  told  you  about  van  Buren's  engagement  to  Phyllis  ?" 
I  asked. 

"No  one.  But  I  thought  they  ought  to  be  engaged,  if  they 
weren't,  and  knew  they  never  would  be  if  Menela  weren't 
got  rid  of. 

"But  about  the  telegram  to  Mrs.  van  Buren " 

"The  minute  I  went  to  my  room,  I  sent  for  a  waiter,  and 
wrote  one,  without  signing  it.  I  hoped  she'd  think  it  came 
from  her  son,  and  that,  in  his  excitement,  he'd  forgotten  to 
put  his  name." 

"She'll  be  furious,"  said  I.  "Freule  Menela.  told  me  — 
and  probably  it's  true  —  that  her  future  mother-in-law  had 
done  everything  she  could  to  bring  about  the  match." 

"Perhaps.  But  she's  tremendously  proud  of  Robert,  so  the 
twins  say.  Once  she  knows  that  Menela  deliberately  threw 


RONALD  LESTER  STARR'S  POINT  OF  VIEW  363 

him  over,  she'd  never  want  him  to  have  anything  to  do  with 
the  girl  again.  And  Phyllis  Rivers  isn't  penniless,  you  know. 
You've  paid  a  generous  half  of  the  expenses  of  this  trip,  for 
which,  it  seems,  some  money  she'd  had  left  to  her  was  to  be 
used.  She's  kept  most  of  that;  and  she  has  about  a  hundred 
and  fifty  pounds  sterling  a  year  besides.  She'll  have  enough 
for  pocket-money,  when  she  and  Robert  are  married ;  and  she 
comes  of  very  good  people:  her  great-great-grandfather  was 
a  viscount,  or  baron,  or  something.  That  will  appeal  to  old 
lady  van  Buren,  when  she  finds  it  out." 

"And  if  Nell  should  happen  to  marry  a  rich  man,  he  would 
be  charmed  to  do  something  for  the  sweet  little  stepsister,"  I 
added. 

The  L.C.P.  turned  on  me  shrewdly.  "You  seem  to  be 
very  sure  of  that.  I  suppose  you  judge  him  by  yourself.  You 
think  Nell's  husband  may  be  a  rich  American  ?" 

"I  hope  so,"  said  I.  "And  a  generous  one.  But  talking  of 
generosity  —  I  promised  to  prove  to  you  that  I  am  no  less 
grateful  than  Tibe,  though  I  may  not  have  as  effective  ways  of 
showing  it.  Strange  little  stage-aunt  of  mine,  I  do  thank  you 
for  saving  me.  I  do  realize  that,  if  it  weren't  for  you,  Freule 
van  der  Windt  at  all  events,  would  have  secured  a  rich  Amer 
ican  husband,  no  matter  what  Miss  Van  Buren 's  luck  may  be. 
I  do  realize  that,  but  for  your  fibs  and  fancies,  I  should  have 
been  a  lost  man,  for  certainly  I  should  not  have  been  equal 
to  saving  myself  from  that  woman.  By  this  one  night's  work 
alone,  if  by  nothing  else,  you've  more  than  earned  your  aunt- 
salary  and  extras.  That  ring  you  helped  me  choose  last 
night  - 

"Don't  go  on,"  she  cut  me  short.  "Didn't  I  tell  you  the 
other  day  when  you  were  offering  me  a  bribe,  that  I  didn't 
want  anything,  and  wouldn't  have  it  —  not  a  diamond  ring,  a 
pearl  ring  —  nor  even  a  ruby  ring.  I  know  you  think  me  a 
mercenary  little  wretch,  and  that  you've  put  up  with  me  all 


364    \  THE   CHAPERON 

this  time  only  because  you  couldn't  do  without  me;  while  as 
for  you,  of  course  you're  only  an  episode  in  my  life.  Still,  I'd 
like  you  to  understand  that  I  haven't  done  this  thing  for  what 
I  could  get  out  of  it.  I've  done  it  —  for  you.  Please  remember 
that,  when  you're  counting  up  how  much  I've  cost  you  on  this 
trip.  Count  what  I've  saved  you,  too." 

"By  Jove,  I'm  not  likely  to  forget  that!"  said  I.  "If  the 
thing  had  ended  by  my  being  the  fiance  —  it  doesn't  bear 
dwelling  on.  But  I  want  you  to  have  the  ring.  I  saw,  all  yes 
terday  afternoon  and  evening,  what  you  were  up  to  on  my 
behalf,  and  I  bought  the  ring  on  purpose  to  give  to  you,  if  you 
pulled  me  through,  as  I  half  thought  you  would." 

"It  was  born  and  bred  for  an  engagement  ring,"  she  said. 
"Give  it  to  —  the  girl  you're  going  to  marry." 

"I  haven't  asked  her  yet." 

"You  mean  to,  I  suppose. " 

"I  suppose  so.  But  she  may  not  accept  me.  Do  you  think 
she  will  ?" 

"If  I  have  an  opinion,  I'm  not  going  to  tell  you.  Only  — 
keep  your  ring." 

So  I  had  to  keep  it.  And  all  day,  while  again  we  passed 
flowery  Boskoop  (not  so  flowery  now)  qtiaint  Gouda,  and  the 
other  little  towns  which  carried  me  back  in  mind  to  the  be 
ginning  of  our  trip,  I  wondered  and  puzzled  over  the  change 
in  that  lady  of  mystery,  the  L.C.P. 


xxxm 

WE  slept  in  Rotterdam,  at  the  old  hotel  in  the 
park  where  the  Angels  were  staying  when  first 
they  came  into  my  life. 

The  next  day  was  a  memorable  one  in  van 
Buren  annals,  for  the  new  fiancee  was  to  be  received  as  such, 
into  the  bosom  of  the  family. 

Robert  and  the  twins  had  left  us  on  our  arrival  in  Rotter 
dam,  for  the  town  house  is  still  closed  for  the  summer,  and 
the  "residence"  is  at  Scheveningen.  It  was  for  the  brother 
and  sisters  to  pave  the  way  for  Phyllis,  and  solve  (if  they 
could)  the  mystery  which  must  have  wrapped  the  unsigned 
telegram  announcing  the  engagement. 

In  the  morning,  before  any  of  us  had  had  breakfast,  back 
came  Robert  in  one  of  Brederode's  cast-off  automobiles  (Alb 
seems  to  shed  motor-cars  and  motor-boats  along  the  path  of 
life  as  most  people  shed  old  shoes)  bringing  a  note  from 
Madame  at  the  Villa  van  Buren. 

What  it  said  I  shall  probably  never  know,  but  Robert's 
too  handsome  face  was  a  shade  less  tranquil  than  usual,  and 
I  guessed  that,  as  Nell  would  say,  he  had  had  to  be  very 
Frisian  before  he  succeeded  in  persuading  his  still  more 
Frisian  mother  that  Phyllis  Rivers  is  a  desirable  substitute 
for  Freule  Menela  van  der  Windt. 

In  any  case,  he  had  persuaded  her  —  he  wouldn't  be  the 
Viking  that  he  is,  if  he  hadn't;  and  though  by  the  shadow 
round  his  calm  gray  eyes,  it  had  probably  taken  half,  or  all  of 
the  night,  the  note  he  produced  must  have  been  satisfactory, 
for  Phyllis  brightened  as  she  read  it. 

365 


366  THE   CHAPERON 

Soon  after,  the  visit  to  Scheveningen  was  arranged;  but 
Robert  had,  no  doubt,  prepared  the  girls  for  the  necessity  of 
making  it,  for  Nell  and  Phyllis  both  came  down  to  breakfast 
in  their  prettiest  dresses,  looking  irresistible.  And  an  hour 
later,  with  motor- veils  over  their  hats,  they  went  off  with 
Robert  in  the  automobile. 

They  were  to  spend  the  day,  for  people  in  the  Hollow  Land 
enjoy  their  pleasures  as  much  by  quantity  as  quality,  es 
pecially  their  friends'  society;  and  I  could  only  hope  that 
a  certain  wistfulness  of  expression,  as  she  looked  back  from 
the  tonneau  of  the  red  car,  meant  that  Nell  would  rather  have 
remained  with  some  of  those  who  were  left  behind. 

If  she  had  stayed  in  Rotterdam,  and  relied  upon  me  for 
entertainment,  I  should  certainly  have  proposed  to  her.  As 
it  was,  I  passed  the  day  somewhat  gloomily,  reflecting  on  the 
time  I  had  wasted,  while  I  had  her  by  my  side.  Now,  I  re 
minded  myself,  the  trip  as  planned  was  drawing  to  a  close. 
There  remained  the  visit  to  Zeeland  —  an  affair  of  a  few  days. 
After  that,  what  ?  Getting  back  to  Rotterdam  again,  for  the 
last  time.  Good-bys.  Selling  the  boat,  perhaps  —  at  least, 
Nell  used  to  talk  of  that  in  the  first  days,  when  the  end  seemed 
far-off  and  vague. 

The  L.C.P.  kept  to  her  sitting-room  on  the  plea  that  she 
had  "a  lot  of  writing  to  do,"  and  Tibe  was  on  guard.  As  for 
the  Albatross,  he  went  off  without  excuse  to  seek  the  friends 
of  his  past,  with  which  the  Mariner  has  no  connection. 

A  premonition  of  the  future  came  upon  me.  I  remembered 
the  Prince  in  the  fairy  tale,  who  was  given  by  the  Fates  three 
magic  citrons,  and  told  that  each  one  contained  a  beautiful 
sylph,  who  would  appear  to  him  as  he  cut  the  rind  of  her 
prison.  She  would  ask  for  a  drink  of  water,  and  if  he  wished 
to  keep  her  for  his  wife  he  must  instantly  obey  or  she  would 
vanish,  never  to  return,  even  in  response  to  the  most  fervent 
prayer.  When  the  Prince  cut  the  first  citron,  the  fairy  vision 


RONALD  LESTER  STARR'S  POINT  OF  VIEW  367 

which  flashed  before  his  eyes  was  so  dazzling,  that,  bewilder 
ed,  he  let  her  go.  With  the  second  the  same  thing  happened, 
and  it  was  only  by  the  greatest  effort  of  self-control  that  he 
preserved  the  third  beauty  for  his  own,  eventually  marrying 
her,  as  a  virtuous  Prince  should. 

"Now,"  said  I  to  myself,  "I'm  not  as  well  off  as  that  Prince. 
Being  only  a  commoner,  I  ought  to  consider  that  I'm  lucky 
to  have  two  citrons,  where  he  had  three.  I've  let  the  first 
sylph  vanish,  and  if  I  don't  secure  the  second,  I  need  never 
hope  to  get  such  another  present  of  fairy  citrons,  for  they'll 
have  run  out  of  stock." 

The  thought  of  going  gray-haired  to  my  grave,  bereft  of 
Phyllis  and  Nell  citrons,  all  through  my  own  folly,  made  me 
feel  elderly  at  twenty-seven;  and  perhaps  my  day  of  gloom 
was  not  wasted,  because,  long  before  the  red  car  brought  back 
the  girl  I  have  lost  and  the  girl  I  have  still  to  win,  I  had  made 
up  my  mind  to  propose  to  Miss  Van  Buren  before  I  should  be 
twTenty-four  hours  older. 

When  Alb  appeared,  it  seemed  that  he  had  been  among 
his  aquatic  friends,  tactfully  seeking  news  of  Sir  Alec  Mac- 
Nairne  and  "Wilhelmina."  But  he  had  learned  nothing;  and 
we  had  to  console  each  other  by  saying  that  "no  news  is  good 
news."  There's  a  chance,  of  course,  of  running  across  him 
again  in  Zeeland:  but  it's  only  one  in  ten,  for  there  are  other 
places  where  he  is  more  likely  to  be  pursuing  us,  since  he  lost 
the  trail  in  Leeuwarden.  Or  perhaps  he  has  given  up  the  idea 
that  Aunt  Fay  is  on  Rudolph  Brederode's  boat,  and  has  gone 
to  search  for  her  in  some  other  less  watery  country.  In  any 
case,  the  trip  will  be  over  in  a  few  days  now;  and  once  the 
L.C.P.  has  vanished  with  Tibe  into  the  vast  obscurity  whence 
she  emerged  in  answer  to  my  advertisement,  poor  hot-tem 
pered  Alec  may  pounce  upon  me  when  he  likes. 

If  I  can  persuade  Nell  that  she  and  I  were  born  for  each 
other,  as  Robert  seems  without  difficulty  to  have  persuaded 


368  THE  CHAPERON 

Phyllis  in  his  regard,  it  ought  to  be  easy  to  convince  her  that 
a  sin  for  her  sake  is  no  sin.  Having  confessed  all,  and  been 
forgiven,  I  can  defy  Alec  to  do  his  worst. 

As  for  Alb,  he  has  had  his  fun  for  his  wages.  And  there 
are  many  beautiful  girls  in  Holland  and  other  countries,  who 
ask  nothing  better  than  to  become  Jonkheeresses. 


XXXIV 

ROBERT  came  on  board  with  us  as  a  matter  of  course 
in  starting  for  Zeeland.  Has  he  not  more  right  than 
I  to  the  deck  of  "Mascotte,"  as  the  cousin  of  the 
owner  and  the  fiance  of  her  stepsister  ?  He  and 
Phyllis  were  the  only  ones  among  us  who  had  the  same  air  of 
cheerful,  light-hearted  anticipation  at  setting  off  for  new 
scenes,  which  all  used  to  have  when  the  trip  was  but  a  few 
days  old.  For  them  there  is  no  thought  of  any  end,  since  the 
tour  of  life  together  is  just  beginning,  full  petrol  ahead. 

Even  when  she  was  "Lorelei,"  and  had  no  concealments 
from  the  world,  "Mascotte"  never  sped  more  bravely.  Through 
the  wide  Noord  Canal  she  took  us  as  unconcernedly  as  if  our 
hopes  and  fears  for  the  future  were  nothing  to  her.  Out  of 
sheer  spite  at  her  lack  of  sympathy,  I  enjoyed  my  private 
knowledge  that,  whatever  happens  to  her,  she  is  certain  to 
lose  her  companion,  "Waterspin."  But  she  didn't  know  that; 
so  she  jogged  on,  purring,  in  blissful  ignorance  of  the  separa 
tion  in  store  for  her. 

If  Dordrecht  had  come  under  our  eyes  when  they  were 
fresh  to  Dutch  waterways,  we  could  not  have  passed  it.  Even 
now,  blase  with  sight-seeing,  and  preoccupied  with  private 
heartburnings,  it  seemed  rather  like  passing  Venice  without 
troubling  to  stop;  for  Dordrecht  appeared  to  me  more  rem 
iniscent  of  Venice  than  any  other  place  seen  during  the 
trip. 

So  attractive  did  it  look,  as  we  peered  up  its  pink-and- 
green  canals,  that  I  did  suggest  pausing. 

"It  would  give  us  one  more  day  together,"  I  said,  "if  we 

369 


870  THE   CHAPERON 

took  this  for  exploring  Dordrecht  and  arrived  at  Middelburg 
to-morrow.  Why  are  we  in  a  hurry  ?" 

Brederode  laughed.  "Ask  Robert,"  he  said. 

But  Robert's  face  and  Phyllis 's  both  answered  before  the 
question  could  be  put.  I  guessed  that  Robert  would  have  liked 
to  stop  the  tour  at  Rotterdam  (for  what  to  him  are  the  joys  of 
traveling  with  a  party  compared  to  the  bliss  of  the  honey 
moon  ?),  but  that  Phyllis  would  not  cheat  Nell  of  Zeeland, 
which  has  always  been  talked  of  as  the  climax  of  the  trip; 
Zeeland  the  mysterious,  Zeeland  the  strange,  proud  daughter 
of  the  sea. 

"Some  time  we  shall  meet  again,  for  you  must  all  join  in 
paying  a  visit  to  Phyllis  and  me.  Then  we  will  take  you  to 
Dordrecht,  and  we  will  all  speak  together  of  this  day,"  said 
Robert. 

That  settled  it,  for  though  Nell  is  owner  of  the  boat  and 
mistress  of  the  situation,  she  would  do  nothing  to  postpone 
Phyllis 's  happiness.  Something  of  the  sort  she  murmured  to 
me  as  we  puffed  past  Dordrecht;  but  I  could  see  by  her  face 
that  Phyllis 's  idea  of  happiness  is  not  hers. 

"Good  excuse  to  get  in  my  entering  wedge,"  I  thought. 
"Ask  her  if  she  doesn't  think  it  a  risk  for  a  girl  to  marry 
anybody  but  one  of  her  own  countrymen.  If  she  says  'yes,' 
there's  my  chance.  If  she's  inclined  to  argue,  try  to  convince 
her,  with  our  case  in  point." 

No  sooner,  however,  had  I  got  my  blue-serge  shoulder 
closer  to  her  white  serge  shoulder,  as  we  both  leaned  over  the 
rail,  looking  back  toward  the  old  town  founded  by  great 
Count  Dietrich,  than  up  sidled  the  lady  who  sometimes  over 
estimates  her  duties  as  chaperon.  She  wanted  to  know  about 
Dordrecht  and  John  of  Brabant  and  the  siege,  and  the  inun 
dation  that  set  the  town  upon  an  island;  nor  would  she  be 
discouraged  when  I  told  her  flatly  that  I  knew  nothing  about 
it,  and  advised  application  to  Baedeker. 


RONALD  LESTER  STARR'S  POINT  OF  VIEW  371 

She  lingered,  prattling  pleasantly  of  the  Merevede,  and  of 
the  peace  and  watery  silence  into  which  we  had  passed,  now 
that  Dordrecht  was  left  behind.  She  drew  Tibe's  attention  to 
the  low-skimming  gulls,  and  our  attention  to  Tibe.  She  asked 
if  we  did  not  smell  salt,  and  insisted  on  our  sniffing  actively 
to  make  sure;  then  cried,  "I  told  you  so !"  when,  after  slipping 
under  a  huge  railway-bridge,  hanging  so  high  that  the  train 
upon  it  looked  like  a  child's  toy,  we  turned  westward  and 
floated  out  upon  a  wide  arm  of  the  sea. 

Altogether,  she  would  not  let  us  forget  her  presence  for 
a  moment,  and  blandly  refused  to  understand  when  my 
raised  eyebrows  telegraphed,  "I  didn't  hire  you  for  this." 

We  seemed  now  to  have  said  good-by  to  the  sheltered 
coziness  of  Holland,  just  as  we  had  said  good-by  to  several 
other  pleasant  dreams  of  the  past.  On  either  side  the  land 
ran  away  from  us  and  hid  beneath  the  dancing  waves  which 
ruffled  the  sea's  sleeve,  so  that  we  saw  of  it  only  long  stripes  of 
green,  which  were  great  dykes,  and  irregular  frillings  of  red, 
which  were  steeples  and  tiled  roofs  of  houses. 

The  tide  was  in  our  favor,  and  we  moved  so  quickly  that 
Alb  thought  we  would  have  no  difficulty  in  reaching  Middel- 
burg  by  nightfall.  Large  steamers  passed  us,  their  decks  piled 
with  cargo,  passengers  crowding  to  the  side  to  stare  curiously 
down  upon  us  as  we  rocked  coquettishly  in  their  wash.  Save 
for  these  big  floating  houses,  and  broad  bowed,  coughing 
motor-barges,  "Mascotte"  and  "Waterspin"  had  the  wide 
waterway  to  themselves;  and  when  we  had  taken  a  southerly 
course,  to  enter  a  channel  between  low-lying  islands,  we  were 
in  Zeeland.  Still,  though  we  were  skirting  the  shore  of  the  is 
land  of  Schouwen,  it  was  as  if  it  ducked  its  head  rather  than 
submit  to  the  ignominy  of  being  seen  by  strangers.  It  was  just 
as  Alb  said,  "Zeeland  was  witch-like,  illusive,  with  the  power 
of  making  herself  invisible."  The  endless,  straight  lines  of 
the  dykes  protecting  Schouwen  and  Tholen  from  the  terrible 


372  THE   CHAPERON 

power  of  the  sea,  stretched  like  close-drawn  ranks  of  devoted 
soldiers  —  each  stone  a  knight  in  armor  —  defending  their 
liege  ladies  from  an  invading  giant,  hiding  the  besieged  dam 
sels'  beauty  behind  their  shields,  so  that  the  monster's  appe 
tite  might  not  be  whetted  by  their  charms. 

Schouwen  on  the  one  hand,  Tholen  on  the  other,  seemed 
to  fall  apart  as  Brederode  cast  us  upon  the  broad  bosom  of  the 
Oster  Scheldt,  steering  for  North  Beveland,  and  told  us  le 
gends  the  while  of  that  strange  archipelago  which  has  for  its 
arms  a  lion  swimming  in  deep  waters.  He  told  of  the  yellow- 
haired  Siren,  who  would  sing  to  lure  sailors  to  her  rock  be 
cause  she  was  bored  by  the  society  of  the  Merman,  her  hus 
band;  how  some  fisherman  one  night  caught  her  in  a  net,  and, 
because  she  was  beautiful,  would  not  give  her  back  to  the  Mer 
man,  though  he  begged  and  prayed,  offering  a  rich  bribe  of 
pearls  and  coral ;  how  the  Merman  swam  away  at  last,  cursing 
the  fishermen  and  their  country,  vowing  never  to  rest  till  he 
and  his  brothers,  with  their  own  hands,  had  brought  enough 
sand  to  choke  all  the  city  ports. 

He  told,  too,  of  the  tempests  which  throw  on  the  shores  of 
Zeeland's  little  isles  the  bodies  of  strange  mummied  monsters, 
part  man,  part  boat;  and  of  still,  clear  dawnings  when  the 
fisherfolk  of  Domburg  can  discern,  far  down  under  the  green 
water,  pagan  temples  of  marble,  and  gleaming  statues  more 
perfect  than  any  fashioned  by  known  sculptors,  even  the 
greatest  masters,  when  Greek  art  was  in  its  prime.  He  told 
of  the  great  dyke  building,  and  how,  at  high  tide,  the  North 
Sea  beats  fiercely  on  Zeeland's  locked  door.  He  told  of  the 
inundations,  and  how  Schouwen,  North  and  South  Beveland, 
Tholen  and  Walcheren,  had  all  been  devoured  by  the  sea, 
only  to  rise  up  again  braver  and  stronger  than  before.  He 
told  how  the  men  of  Zeeland  had  fought  against  the  men 
of  Spain  in  the  old,  bad  days;  and  it  was  all  very  interesting 
and  instructive;  but  how  was  I  to  oppose  my  frail  vow  against 


RONALD  LESTER  STARR'S  POINT  OF  VIEW  373 

such  a  tide  of  information  ?  There  were  no  dykes  built 
round  my  resolve  to  propose  to  Nell  within  the  space  of 
four  and  twenty  hours;  and  between  Alb's  eloquence  and 
the  L.C.P.'s  persistence,  it  dissolved  like  a  Dutch  town  in  an 
inundation. 

Still  I  was  not  as  furious  as  I  ought  to  have  been.  My 
steeples  and  chimneys  remained  above  water,  and  the  sky  was 
so  cloudless  that  I  could  not  despair.  It  seemed  like  old  times 
to  hear  Alb  holding  forth  upon  the  history,  drama,  and  legend 
of  the  little  country  of  which  he  is  so  proud,  and  in  spite  of 
myself  my  heart  was  warm  for  him.  I  rather  wondered  how 
Nell  had  contrived  to  harden  hers  so  relentlessly  against  those 
clear  brown  features,  those  deep  brown  eyes,  and  the  firm 
mouth  which  is  not  cold. 

"A  good  thing  for  me,"  thought  I,  "that  she  has.  And  if 
I  don't  get  a  chance  to  ask  her  to-day,  I'll  write  a  note  and  beg 
the  L.C.P.  —  no,  I'll  get  Sister  Phyllis  to  give  it  to  her  this 
evening." 

I  was  arranging  the  wording  of  the  note,  after  tea,  which 
we  had  on  deck,  when,  quite  idly  at  first,  my  eyes  dwelt  upon 
a  black  speck  moving  far  away,  in  our  wake.  It  amused  me 
to  see  the  speck  grow,  for  at  the  moment  I  had  no  one  to  talk 
to,  and  Tibe  was  asleep  with  his  chin  on  my  knee.  I  lost  track 
of  a  sentence  which  was  shaping  itself  nicely  in  my  mind  and 
ought  to  have  been  irresistible  to  Nell,  in  wondering  what  the 
speck  would  turn  out  to  be,  by-and-by. 

It  was  growing  fast,  which  meant  that  it  was  moving  fast, 
perhaps  faster  than  we.  Could  it  be  a  motor-barge  ?  But  why 
should  a  motor-barge  be  forging  out  to  sea,  where  no  motor- 
barges  or  motor-boats  of  any  sort,  except  racers,  had  any  need 
to  venture,  unless  they  were  navigated  to  gratify  the  whim  of  a 
wilful  American  girl  ? 

Now,  it  did  not  appear  likely  that  in  Dutch  waters  there 
could  be  at  this  moment  an  indefinite  number  of  American 


374  THE   CHAPERON 

girls,  wilful  or  otherwise,  owning  motor-vessels,  and  wishing 
to  visit  Zeeland  in  them. 

If  it  were  not  such  a  fine  day,  Alb  would  not  have  taken 
the  risk  with  "Mascotte"  and  "Waterspin,"  even  to  please  his 
particular  American  girl,  and  if  it  were  not  to  please  her,  he 
would  probably  not  have  come  in  any  case.  Yet  that  thing  be 
hind  us  was  skimming  along  too  fast  to  be  anything  else  save  a 
motor-boat.  What  then  was  its  errand  in  this  wide,  lake-like 
expanse  of  water,  which  did  not  lend  itself  to  the  encourage 
ment  of  promiscuous  motor-boats  ? 

It  was  gaining  on  us  now,  for  it  had  no  fat  "Waterspin"  to 
drag.  One  might  almost  think  it  was  following,  it  came  so 
straight,  and  —  Suddenly  my  ears  and  the  top  of  my  head 
felt  hot. 

I  got  up,  and  went  to  Alb5  who  was  standing  silent  at  the 
wheel.  Before  I  spoke  to  him  I  glanced  at  the  others  to  see 
that  they  were  all  fully  occupied  in  listening  to  Robert  talk 
of  the  house,  next  door  to  his  mother's  in  Rotterdam,  which 
he  had  the  intention  of  buying  "as  a  wedding  present  for 
Phyllis." 

"Alb,"  said  I,  "just  throw  a  look  over  your  shoulder,  and 
say  what  manner  of  thing  you  think  that  is  coming  after  us." 

He  threw  the  look.  "I  think,"  he  answered  slowly,  "that 
it's  by  way  of  being  Sir  Alec  MacNairne's  '  Wilhelmina.'  ' 

"Good  heavens!"  I  exclaimed,  "you  take  it  pretty  calmly." 
But  even  as  I  reproached  him,  I  was  conscious  of  an  increase 
of  speed.  Alb  can  regulate  this  by  means  of  a  long  lever  which 
goes  down  through  the  deck  to  the  motor. 

"What  makes  you  think  it's  Sir  Alec  ?"  I  asked.  "You  can't 
tell  yet  what  the  thing  looks  like." 

"Neither  can  you,"  said  Alb.  "You  felt  what  it  was.  It's 
the  same  with  me.  I  feel  it's  *  Wilhelmina,'  and  I'm  going  to 
try  and  give  her  the  slip  again,  if  I  can.  But  honestly,  if  it's 
she,  and  she  wants  to  overhaul  us,  we  haven't  got  much  chance 


RONALD  LESTER  STARR'S  POINT  OF  VIEW  375 

weighted  down  by  'Waterspin.'  If  it  weren't  for  that,  I'd 
guarantee  to  let  '  Wilhelmina '  see  nothing  but  our  heels." 

"Let's  cut  'Waterspin'  adrift,"  I  whispered,  glaring  at  poor 
Toon,  who  stood  steering  the  squat  little  barge,  with  an  irri- 
tatingly  complacent  look  on  his  nice  face. 

"Impossible,  my  dear  fellow.  But  you  don't  mean  it,  of 


course." 


"I'm  capable  of  meaning  anything,"  said  I.  "See  here, 
old  Alb,  you've  pulled  me  through  a  lot  of  things,  since  you 
tied  yourself  round  my  neck;  pull  me  through  this,  and  you 
shall  be  best  man  at  my  wedding." 

"Who'll  be  the  bride  ?"  he  asked,  as  I  stared  back  at  the 
following  craft,  which  was  now  too  big  to  be  called  a  speck. 
It  was  a  black  blot  upon  the  water,  as  upon  my  hopes. 

"The  bride  ?"  I  repeated.  "Why,  N  —  Oh,  by  Jove!  wasn't 
she  the  one  you  wanted  at  one  time  ?  You  never  would  tell 
which,  you  know,  so  you  can't  blame  me." 

"Are  you  engaged  to  her?"  he  asked,  in  rather  a  queer 
voice;  and  I  realized  how  much  I  was  at  his  mercy,  as,  fas 
cinated,  I  watched  his  brown  hand  tighten  on  the  wheel. 
If  he  liked,  he  could  stop  "Mascotte"  in  mid  sea,  and  let  me 
lie  at  the  mercy  of  the  enemy.  /  could  no  nothing.  Hendrik 
would  obey  him,  not  me.  Even  Tibe  would  not  seize  him  by 
the  throat  to  please  me.  Tibe  likes  and  respects  Alb  even  more, 
strange  to  say,  than  he  does  me. 

But,  to  do  Alb  justice,  he  was  not  slowing  down.  On  the 
contrary,  he  was  putting  on  speed,  as  much,  I  feared,  as  "Mas 
cotte"  was  capable  of  making. 

"I'm  not  engaged,"  I  admitted;  "but  I  was  going  to  pro 
pose  to  her  to-day,  if  this  hadn't  happened.  For  goodness' 
sake,  hurry." 

"I  wonder  you  have  the  cheek  to  tell  me  that,  and  then 
ask  me  to  hurry.  Why  should  I  help  you  to  get  her  ?" 

"Do  you  still  want  her  ?"  I  asked. 


376  THE   CHAPERON 

"More  than  I  ever  wanted  or  shall  want  anything  else." 

"Then  it's  all  up  with  me !"  I  groaned. 

"Do  you  mean " 

"I  only  mean  that  you  can  make  me  lose  her.  If  Alec  Mac- 
Nairne  boards  us  like  a  pirate,  and  yells  for  his  Fay,  I  shall 
be  discovered  as  a  perjured  villain,  just  in  the  very  hour  when 
it's  necessary  for  me  to  appear  most  virtuous.  Heavens !  If 
this  could  only  have  happened  afterwards.  Once  I  was  sure 
of  her,  I'd  have  confessed  everything,  for  I  could  have  made 
her  understand  how  it  was  all  done  for  her  sake  —  for  love 
of  her." 

"And  her  stepsister,"  said  Alb,  bitterly,  as  he  did  to  the 
wheel  what  perhaps  he  would  have  liked  to  do  to  my  throat. 

"That  was  a  mere  boyish  fancy,"  said  I.  "I  love  Nell  Van 
Buren  with  a  man's  love.  You  can  stop  this  boat  if  you  choose 
to  be  a  revengeful  Albatross " 

"I  shall  not  stop  the  boat,"  he  said,  in  a  grave,  hard  voice, 
which  made  my  tone  sound  light,  almost  humorous.  "I  shall 
not  rob  you  of  your  chance  with  her.  If  it  depends  upon  me, 
you  shall  have  it." 

I  really  did  admire  Alb,  as  he  stood  there,  not  looking  at 
me,  but  straight  ahead,  as  if  into  a  blank  future. 

"Do  you  care  for  her  a  lot  ?"  I  asked,  half  remorsefully. 

"Only  more  than  for  the  rest  of  the  world  put  together. 
But  I  tell  you  honestly,  I  haven't  had  much  hope  lately.  I 
suppose  I  was  a  conceited  ass  to  make  up  my  mind  that 
nothing  should  stop  me  from  winning  the  girl,  in  spite  of  her 
self.  Well,  she's  punished  me  —  shown  me  my  folly.  But  for 
all  that,  I  regret  nothing.  If  it  were  to  do  over  again,  I'd  come 
on  board  this  boat  and  work  for  her  as  I  have  worked,  even 
knowing  as  I  know  now  that  she'd  end  by  disliking  me  as 
much  as  she  did  in  the  beginning.  You're  an  attractive  fellow 
to  women,  Starr." 

"Phyllis  preferred  Robert,"  I  said  thoughtfully. 


RONALD  LESTER  STARR'S  POINT  OF  VIEW  377 

"Yes.  I  confess  I  hoped  you  and  Miss  Rivers  would  make 
a  match:  then  I'd  have  had  nothing  to  fear  from  you  in  the 
other  direction.  But  it  wasn't  to  be;  and  she  and  Bob  van 
Buren  will  be  perfectly  happy.  You  needn't  fear  I'll  turn 
against  you.  Depend  on  me  to  do  my  best  with  the  boat  — 
though  of  course  you  won't  expect  help  in  any  other  way." 

"Of  course  not,"  I  said. 

"Nor  need  it,  I  suppose,"  he  added,  harshly. 

"Perhaps  we  may  be  mistaken  about  the  boat  being  Alec's," 
I  said. 

"We  both  know  we're  not,"  said  he.  "Still  —  there's  my 
glass.  Have  a  squint  through  it." 

I  took  up  the  binocular  which  the  skipper  always  Keeps 
handy,  and  had  the  squint,  as  he  recommended.  It  was  not  an 
encouraging  squint,  for,  though  our  follower  had  not  been 
gaining  for  the  last  few  minutes,  all  I  could  see  of  her  made 
me  more  confident  than  before  that  she  was  "Wilhelmina." 
Whether  Alec  MacNairne  was  actually  in  chase  of  us,  or 
whether  it  merely  happened  that  he  had  to-day  made  up  his 
mind  to  try  Zeeland,  in  his  quest,  remained  to  be  seen;  but 
be  that  as  it  might,  we  were  in  the  greatest  danger  of  being 
overtaken. 

In  my  agitation  and  fear  of  losing  all,  i  could  not  concen 
trate  my  mind  upon  the  thinking  out  of  any  stratagem  to 
outwit  Alec  if  he  came  upon  us,  and  I  dared  not  interrupt  Alb's 
task  by  imploring  him  to  rack  his  brains.  The  thing  for  him 
to  do,  I  told  myself,  was  to  keep  ahead  of  "Wilhelmina"  at  any 
price,  especially  while  we  were  in  open  water.  Once  we  could 
gain  the  region  of  canals  and  narrow  cross  channels,  we  might 
slip  round  a  water-corner  and  disappear.  Anything,  anything, 
then,  to  keep  ahead ! 

"Run  down  and  tell  Hendrik  to  see  that  there's  plenty  of 
water,"  said  Alb.  "It  won't  do  for  the  motor  to  get  hot.  Say 
to  him  that  we're  going  to  have  a  race." 


378  THE   CHAPERON 

"I  can't  make  him  understand,"  I  wailed. 

"I  forgot.  Well,  take  the  wheel  a  minute,  then " 

"I  daren't.  If  I  do,  something's  sure  to  go  wrong;  or  I 
shall  snap  it  short  off  on  its  stem. " 

"You  are  a  helpless  chap,  I  must  say." 

"So  would  you  be,  if  I  told  you  to  finish  one  of  my  pictures, 
perhaps." 

"That's  true.  Well,  say  this." 

And  he  uttered  useless-sounding  words  in  Dutch,  which 
I  repeated  after  him  until  I  knew  them  by  heart.  Then  I  went 
below  and  gabbled  them  to  Hendrik,  not  more  than  half 
wrong,  for  he  seemed  to  understand.  But  while  the  pink 
youth  abandoned  the  operation  of  rubbing  brass  with  cotton 
waste  in  favor  of  bailing  up  water,  I  stood  gazing  at  the  motor, 
praying  it  to  do  its  best. 

It  was  hot  in  the  motor's  den;  so  hot  that  it  was  no  wonder 
the  deck,  which  formed  the  roof,  often  felt  warm  underfoot. 
Chump,  chump,  went  the  engine,  sounding  stolid  and  Dutch 
and  obstinate,  as  if  nothing  on  earth  or  water  could  induce  it 
to  go  faster  than  it  chose.  It  even  seemed  to  me  as  I  gazed 
that  it  was  slowing  down,  out  of  spite.  I  longed  to  feel  its 
pulses  with  a  stop-watch  in  the  other  hand,  and  make  sure. 
Could  it  be  that,  after  all,  Alb  had  changed  his  mind,  and 
meant  to  betray  me  ?  No,  it  must  be  a  trick  of  my  amateurish 
fancy. 

I  assured  myself  of  this  two  or  three  times  over;  but  when 
Hendrik  came  back  with  a  big  pail  of  water,  I  saw  by  his  face 
that  I  had  not  been  deceived.  Something  was  wrong. 

There  was  no  use  in  trying  to  question  him,  since  I  have 
no  Dutch,  and  he  has  no  English,  except  "Thank  you,"  and 
"Good  day."  He  flew  at  the  motor,  his  cheeks  pinker  than 
ever,  and  I  flew  up  on  deck  to  find  Alb  in  the  act  of  giving 
over  the  wheel  to  Nell. 

He  pushed  past  me  with  a  quick,  "Don't  stop  me.  I've  got 


RONALD  LESTER  STARR'S  POINT  OF  VIEW  379 

to  see  what's  wrong."  And  I  joined  Nell,  who  looked  very 
proud  of  herself  as  skipper. 

Every  one  on  deck  was  alert  now,  knowing  that  something 
had  happened,  for  the  first  time  in  all  our  peaceful  watery 
weeks.  They  were  not  yet  aware  of  the  pirate  in  pursuit,  or 
that  this  day  was  the  one  of  all  others  when  the  motor  ought 
not  to  fail  us :  but  they  knew  that,  after  putting  on  a  fine  spurt 
of  speed  for  some  reason  or  other,  the  engine  had  turned 
suddenly  sulky,  and  was  threatening  to  stop. 

"Have  I  the  evil  eye?"  I  asked  myself.  "Did  I  'overlook' 
the  beastly  thing  when  I  went  below  and  stared  at  it  ?" 

"What's  the  matter  ?"  I  inquired  of  Nell,  feeling  a  cer 
tain  relief  in  talking  to  her,  she  looked  so  beautiful  and  so 
dependable 

"Don't  speak  to  the  man  at  the  wheel,"  she  said,  smiling, 
but  keeping  her  eyes  straight  ahead. 

"Jonkheer  Brederode  says  it's  nothing  serious;  we  aren't  to 
worry,"  remarked  the  L.C.P.  from  her  deck-chair.  "I  think 
it's  rather  fun  to  have  a  nice  little  accident.  It  breaks  the 
monotony.  And  it's  really  exciting,  being  out  at  sea." 

"It  is  rather  exciting,"  said  I,  signaling  danger,  with  a 
glance  that  swept  the  water  as  far  back  as  the  now  plainly 
visible  pursuer. 

She  may  or  may  not  have  caught  my  meaning;  but  Robert 
van  Buren's  eyes  chanced  at  that  instant  to  fall  upon  the  dis 
tant  craft. 

"Ah!"  he  observed,  in  a  tone  of  careless  interest,  for  which 
I  could  have  boxed  his  ears,  "there  is  another  motor-boat,  I 
believe.  It  is  coming  as  straight  as  if  it  were  following  us." 

I  saw  the  L.C.P.  give  a  start.  She  looked  at  me,  and  our 
eyes  would  have  met  had  it  not  been  for  the  blue  glasses.  She 
understood,  and  knew  just  how  exciting  her  "nice  little  ac 
cident"  might  turn  out  to  be. 

At  this  moment  the  motor  gave  a  groan  and  stopped.  As 


380  THE   CHAPERON 

it's  heart  ceased  to  beat,  I  was  astounded  by  the  apparition  of 
a  totally  new  Alb. 

Two  minutes  ago,  at  most,  he  had  disappeared  in  the  garb 
of  a  self-respecting  gentleman  with  a  yachting  turn  of  mind. 
He  reappeared  in  a  suit  of  Hendrik's  blue  overalls,  and,  ap 
parently,  nothing  else,  his  feet  being  bare.  In  his  hand  were  a 
hammer  and  a  chisel. 

"Motor's  all  right.  It  must  be  the  propeller  that's  wrong. 
I'm  going  down  to  see,"  he  explained,  no  trace  of  excitement 
on  his  face,  no  hint  of  flurry  in  his  voice.  Alb  is  a  good  plucked 
one,  and  for  presence  of  mind  and  savoir  faire  I've  never  met 
his  equal. 

As  "Mascotte"  had  slowed  down,  and  then  stopped,  "Wat- 
erspin"  came  lolloping  alongside.  Toon,  looking  scarcely 
more  flustered  than  his  superior,  kept  the  barge  from  bunting 
into  her  consort,  fending  her  off  with  a  pole.  Alb,  with  a  rope 
round  his  waist  to  keep  him  steady  at  his  work  under  the 
water,  slid  over  the  side  of  the  boat,  and  groped  about  with  his 
free  hand  under  the  water-line. 

"There's  something  round  the  screw  shaft, "  he  called  up  to 
Robert  and  me.  "Queer  thing!  It  feels  like  a  coil  of  wire. 
We  must  have  picked  it  up  in  the  canal  by  Dordrecht,  and 
ever  since  it's  been  slowly  winding  itself  round  the  shaft, 
until  now  it's  so  tight  that  the  propeller  can't  work. " 

"Then  all  hope's  over,"  I  said,  with  a  meaning  which  he 
alone  —  or  perhaps  the  L.C.P.  —  could  understand.  "We're 
caught  in  a  trap." 

"This  hammer  and  chisel  will  gnaw  our  way  out, "  he  an 
swered.  "The  game  isn't  up  yet.  Good-by.  I've  got  to  work 
in  Davy  Jones's  workshop." 

Drawing  a  deep  breath,  he  dropped  down  under  water, 
which  hid  him  from  sight  like  a  roof  of  thick  gray  glass.  Then, 
in  a  few  seconds,  we  heard  a  knocking,  muffled,  mysterious, 
somewhere  below  that  glass  roof. 


RONALD  LESTER  STARR'S  POINT  OF  VIEW  381 

After  a  time  which  seemed  long  to  every  one,  and  an  age  to 
me,  up  came  Alb's  head,  wet,  black,  and  glittering. 

"Wish  I  had  a  diver's  helmet,"  he  said,  when  he  had  breath 
ed  ;  and  promptly  dipped  out  of  sight  again. 

Once  more  the  knocking  came.  Alb  was  working  hard 
and  loyally  for  my  interests,  and  against  his  own,  I  couldn't 
help  remembering;  but  meanwhile  we  were  floating  idly, 
losing  precious  time,  while  the  pirate  gained  upon  us.  Fifteen 
minutes  more  of  this  inaction,  and  he  would  be  on  our  backs. 
I  almost  wished  that  he  were  a  true  pirate,  and  that  it  might  be 
a  war  of  knives  and  cutlasses,  instead  of  wits  and  tongues. 
I  could  be  brave  enough  then;  but  as  a  fraudulent  nephew 
detected  with  his  false  aunt,  so  to  speak,  in  his  mouth,  what 
wonder  if  I  felt  my  heart  turn  to  water  ? 

Twice  more  Alb  came  up  to  breathe,  and  dived  again. 
The  last  time  all  was  still  underneath  the  water,  and  a  fear 
came  over  me  that  Alb  had  knocked  his  head  against  some 
thing,  or  got  a  cramp.  But  he  appeared,  spluttering,  and 
announced  that  he  had  been  cutting  the  wire  through  with  the 
chisel.  There  it  was  in  his  hand,  a  thick,  ugly  coil,  dangerous 
as  an  octopus. 

"Start  the  motor,  Hendrik,"  he  called,  even  before  he  had 
clambered  on  deck.  "Now,  ladies,  unless  you  go  below  you 
may  get  a  shower  bath,  for  we're  going  to  have  a  race  with  the 
motor-boat  that's  coming  along  —  just  for  the  fun  of  the 
thing,  you  know  —  and  I  can't  trust  the  wheel  to  any  one 
while  I  run  down  and  change." 

"We  shan't  mind  a  wetting,"  said  Nell,  whose  eyes  were 
shining  with  something  very  like  admiration.  "We  want  to  see 
the  race." 

"I  would  rather  you  saw  it  from  the  cabin  windows,"  said 
Brederode;  and  I  guessed  at  once  that  he  had  more  than 
one  object  in  hustling  the  women  of  the  party  below.  The 
L.C.P.  guessed  also,  and  headed  a  reluctant  procession. 


382  THE   CHAPERON 

Now  the  pursuing  Vengeance  was  not  five  hundred  yards 
behind,  and  if  we  had  ever  doubted  that  she  was  "Wilhel- 
mina,"  we  doubted  no  longer.  I  could  distinctly  see  a  man's 
figure  in  the  bow,  and  would  have  felt  safe  in  staking  any  sum 
that  it  was  Sir  Alec's. 

Alb,  dripping  like  a  fountain-statue,  stood  at  the  wheel, 
and  as  I  had  never  seen  him  look  more  attractive,  perhaps 
it  was  as  well  for  me  that  Nell  had  gone  below. 

"They'll  think  me  a  madman  when  we  come  to  a  lock," 
said  he;  "but  who  cares  ?  I'm  bound  to  get  you  out  of  this 
scrape  if  lean." 

Never  was  sound  more  melodious  in  my  ears  than  the 
quickening  throb  of  the  motor.  I  felt  intimate  and  at  home 
with  it,  as  with  the  beating  of  my  own  heart.  On  we  went, 
pounding  along  at  recovered  speed,  and  were  well  into  the 
channel  between  North  and  South  Beveland,  but  there  also 
was  "Wilhelmina."  Oh,  for  some  small  side  canal  into  which 
we  could  slip  and  somehow  disappear ! 

As  my  eyes  searched  the  waste  of  green  water  and  the  low 
coasts  of  Beveland,  all  unexpectedly  to  me  we  rounded  a 
point,  and  there  was  a  half-hidden  town,  one  graceful  spire 
seeming  to  beckon  where  safety  lay. 

"It's  Veere,"  said  Alb.  "You're  sure  to  have  heard  of  it :  all 
artists  have.  But  the  thing  of  importance  to  us  now  is  the 
canal  which  begins  here,  crosses  the  island  of  Walcheren  and 
goes  to  Middelburg  and  Vlissingen.  If  only  we  can  get  in, 
and  shut  'Wilhelmina'  out !" 

"Can  we?"  I  gasped. 

"Look !"  he  answered.  "What  luck !" 

I  looked,  and  saw  from  afar  two  great  sea-gates  of  a  mon 
ster  lock  standing  open,  while  into  its  jaws  poured  a  train  of 
barges,  sailing-boats  and  small  steamers,  which  had  been 
biding  their  time  outside. 

"Joy !"  I  cried.  "We're  saved." 


RONALD  LESTER  STARR'S  POINT  OF  VIEW  383 

"Not  yet,"  said  Alb,  as  we  dashed  on,  full  speed  ahead, 
going  as  we  had  never  gone  yet.  "We  may  be  too  late.  Quick, 
run  for'rad,  haul  down  the  stars  and  stripes,  and  hoist  the 
Club  flag  instead.  That'll  carry  more  power  even  than  the 
whole  Navy  of  the  United  States,  and  I  mean  to  use  it  for  all 
it's  worth,  right  or  no  right. n 

I  darted  to  the  bow  and  changed  the  flags,  fumbling  in  my 
haste;  then,  when  the  talisman  was  floating  bravely,  I  hurried 
back  to  Alb,  who  was  imperiously  clanging  our  bell  with  one 
hand,  and  steering  with  the  other. 

I  stood  ready  with  the  long  boat-hook,  not  daring  to  look 
back  and  see  what  speed  "Wilhelmina"  might  be  making. 
Toon  was  alert  on  "Waterspin,"  with  a  coiled  rope  in  his 
hand.  All  the  boats  were  in  the  lock  now,  and  the  sound  of  our 
bell,  and  the  colors  of  the  Club  flag  alone  kept  the  lock-keeper 
from  closing  the  great  gate-jaws.  Time  was  up:  we  must  make 
a  spurt  for  it  if  we  were  not  to  exhaust  his  patience.  We  could 
see  him  beckoning  eagerly,  and  with  a  rush  we  were  at  the 
gates,  in  the  tail  of  the  long  procession.  It  was  only  as  I  knew 
they  were  slowly,  inexorably  closing  behind  us  that  I  could 
bring  myself  to  look  back.  There  was  "Wilhelmina"  just 
coming  into  sight  round  the  point,  Alec  MacNairne  gesticu 
lating  wildly,  a  figurehead  "come  alive,"  and  furious. 


XXXV 

"  f~*\  RE  AT  Scott,  but  that  was  a  narrow  shave!"  I 

•  sighed  in  ecstasy.  "He's  out  of  it  now." 

^L  "He  may  be  out  of  the  lock,  but  we're  not  out 

of  the  wood,"  said  Alb. 

He  had  slowed  down,  reversed  the  engine,  and  quietly 
passed  into  a  water-lane  between  some  huge  barges,  looking 
not  a  whit  disconcerted  by  the  curious  gaze  of  the  barge-folk 
who  wondered  at  his  bare  feet  and  soaked  overalls. 

"Why,  what  can  he  do  ?"  I  asked.  "He'll  have  to  wait  an 
hour  before  the  lock  opens  again." 

"You'll  see  presently  what  he  can  do,"  said  Alb.  "At  least, 
you  will  if  he  has  any  sense.  It  will  be  time  for  us  to  crow  by- 
and-by  —  if  ever. " 

I  burned  to  ask  what  he  meant  by  these  ominous  prognos 
tications;  but  he  began  to  jabber  in  Dutch  to  our  staring 
water-neighbors.  Any  stranger  would  have  thought  him  in  the 
pleasantest  mood  in  the  world.  He  had  a  friendly  nod  for  the 
brown-faced  skipper  of  a  smoking  tug,  a  few  words  for  an 
other,  and  smiles  for  every  one. 

"I'm  telling  them  that  I've  a  wager  on,  and  begging  their 
kind  help  to  win  it,"  he  explained  to  me,  as  gradually  he  push 
ed  "Mascotte"  and  "Waterspin"  through,  and  ahead  of,  the 
other  craft.  "I'm  saying  nothing  about  the  Club  flag;  but  they 
can  see  it,  and  they  all  know  what  it  means.  But,  to  save  rows, 
I'm  being  extra  polite,  and,  you  see,  it  pays.  Nobody  yet  has 
resented  our  getting  ahead,  though  theirs  is  the  right  of 
precedence." 

On  we  went  toward  the  top  of  the  lock,  sneaking,  sidling, 

384 


RONALD  LESTER  STARR'S  POINT  OF  VIEW  385 

pushing,  here  and  there  thanks  to  a  good-natured,  helping 
hand,  here  and  there  thanks  to  a  shout  from  the  lock-keeper 
to  a  sulky  bargeman.  On  the  lock-keeper  the  sight  of  the  Club 
flag  had  a  magic  effect,  and  he  evidently  intended  to  make  its 
rights  respected,  no  doubt  counting  on  a  five  gulden  "tip" 
at  the  end. 

Ignorant  of  the  perils  at  which  Alb  had  hinted,  the  time 
seemed  intolerably  long  as  the  water  foamed  in  through  the 
upper  sluice-gates,  filling  the  lock  inch  by  inch,  and  lifting  its 
load  of  creaking  boats  and  tugs.  When  we  entered  the  lower 
gates,  we  could  see  only  the  green  and  slimy  wall  of  the  lock; 
but  by-and-by  we  found  ourselves  looking  over  green  fields  to 
a  picturesque  old  town  no  more  than  a  stone's  throw  away. 

Alb's  pleasantries  and  the  might  of  the  Club  flag  had 
brought  us  near  to  the  top  of  the  lock,  and  I  had  begun  to 
hope  that  his  dark  prophecies  were  not  to  be  fulfilled,  when  I 
jumped  at  the  sound  of  a  shout  from  shore. 

The  voice  was  the  voice  of  Alec  MacNairne,  and  turning 
my  head  with  a  start,  I  saw  his  tall  figure  tearing  toward  us  on 
the  narrow  parapet  made  by  the  edge  of  the  lock. 

"That's  what  you  meant  ?"  I  quavered. 

"That's  what  I  meant,"  answered  Alb.  But  his  hand  was 
on  the  starting  lever,  and  the  upper  gates  had  begun  to  swing 
back. 

Alb  was  looking  particularly  debonair,  and  taking  pattern 
by  him,  I  turned  away  from  my  aunt's  husband,  pretending 
that  I  had  neither  seen  nor  heard  him. 

"Hi,  you  there !  Starr  —  Brederode !  Scoundrels !"  he  roared 
at  our  backs. 

"If  he  jumps  into  one  of  these  boats  and  gets  across  to 
us!"  I  murmured. 

"He  will  if  he  can,  but  - 

Before  Alb  could  finish  his  sentence  the  first  half  of  my 
fear  was  verified.  Sir  Alec  gathered  himself  for  a  spring,  and 


386  THE   CHAPERON 

leaping  across  the  narrow  water-lane  between  his  parapet  and 
the  nearest  barge,  landed  with  a  crash  on  the  gunwale. 

At  that  sound  my  heart  seemed  to  stop  for  repairs;  for 
there  were  two  barges  in  front  of  us,  the  biggest  in  the  lock, 
and  we  had  not  been  able  to  pass  them  before  the  doors  be 
gan  to  open.  Now  we  could  not  escape  until  they  hajd  floated 
out  into  the  canal,  and,  meanwhile,  there  might  be  a  little 
private  tragedy  in  high  life  on  board  "Mascotte." 

But  a  Dutchman's  lighter  is  as  sacred,  Alb  has  explained 
to  us  all,  as  a  Dutchman's  house;  and  when  the  loud,  explo 
sive  Scotsman  arrived  on  the  gunwale,  uninvited  and  breath 
ing  fire,  the  lighter's  owner  proceeded  also  to  breathe  fire. 
He  swore;  his  Kees  dog  yapped;  his  children  cried  and  his 
wife  vituperated.  An  understudy  took  the  helm,  and  before 
Sir  Alec  could  jump  across  to  another  barge,  in  his  pursuit 
of  us,  he  foun.d  himself  engaged  in  an  encounter  with  the 
skipper  of  his  first  choice. 

The  one  could  speak  no  English,  the  other  could  speak  no 
Dutch;  and  in  his  fury  at  seeing  us  slip  out  through  the  gates 
behind  the  two  great  barges,  he  could  do  nothing  but  stammer 
with  rage,  and  try  to  push  past  the  stout  form  which  strove  to 
detain  him  for  argument. 

Naturally,  the  push  made  matters  worse.  Sir  Alec  does 
not  know  Dutchmen,  especially  lightermen,  as  well  as  I  have 
learned  to  do,  or  he  would  have  refrained  from  that  extreme  — 
and  on  the  man's  own  barge.  His  push  was  given  back  with 
interest,  and  the  last  we  saw  of  him,  as  other  boats  surged 
round  the  scene  of  the  contest,  was  in  a  gallant  attempt  to 
make  a  twelve-foot  jump,  while  a  stout  Dutch  skipper  and  a 
stout  Dutch  skipper's  stout  Dutch  wife  held  on  to  his  coat-tails. 

Again  I  drew  a  full  breath  of  relief,  and  I  saw  by  Alb's  face 
that  he,  too,  hoped  for  the  best,  for  —  whatever  his  private 
feelings  might  be  —  he  is  too  good  a  sportsman  not  to  feel  the 
spirit  of  a  race. 


RONALD  LESTER  STARR'S  POINT  OF  VIEW  387 

We  were  out  of  the  lock,  our  propeller  churning  the  water, 
but  —  again  there  was  a  "but."  Alb  made  a  dash  for  freedom 
by  trying  to  glide  between  the  two  immense  barges  which, 
alone  of  all  the  late  denizens  of  the  lock,  had  refused  to  give  us 
precedence.  But  his  gracious  ways  had  not  softened  the  hearts 
of  these  skippers,  nor  did  they  care  for  his  Club  flag.  All  they 
did  care  for  was  to  keep  one  another  from  getting  ahead. 

Evidently  they  were  old  enemies,  and  this  was  not  the  first 
time  that  they  had  engaged  in  deadly  duel.  Ancient  scores 
had  to  be  paid,  and  a  fig  for  those  who  came  after ! 

Each  glared  at  the  other.  Each  tried  to  push  his  big  craft 
ahead.  Crash !  They  stuck,  and  jammed,  the  man  at  the  right, 
the  man  at  the  left,  pushing  with  all  his  force  with  a  giant  pole, 
each  push  locking  both  barges  the  tighter. 

We  were  on  their  heels,  and  on  ours  was  the  whole  press  of 
boats  let  out  from  the  lock,  surging  heavily  forward. 

Alb  shouted  something  in  Dutch.  "I'm  saying  that  the 
only  thing  is  for  one  to  give  way,  and  let  the  other  go  by  in 
advance,  not  both  try  to  strain  through  together,"  he  explain 
ed,  when  I  anxiously  demanded  to  know  what  was  happening. 

Both  men  shook  their  heads,  and  grumbled,  while  from 
behind  rose  a  Babel  of  cries  and  adjurations. 

"They  won't,"  said  Alb.  "They  say  that  they  will  never  give 
way  to  each  other.  They  would  smash  their  boats  first.  If 
anything  happens  to  part  them  they  won't  mind,  because  it 
will  be  fate,  and  neither  one  will  have  given  up  for  the  other. 
Meanwhile,  they  say  they're  sorry,  but  they  won't  move,  and 
the  rest  of  us  must  fare  the  best  we  can." 

"Can't  the  lock-keeper  do  anything  ?"  I  asked. 

"He  can  swear."  Alb  smiled;  and  I  believe  there  was  some 
thing  in  him  that  sympathized  with  the  two  obstinate  brutes. 

"For  goodness'  sake  tell  them  we'll  give  each  one  a  hun 
dred  —  no,  a  thousand  —  gulden,  if  necessary,  if  only  they'll 
agree  as  to  which  is  to  yield,  and  move  out  of  our  road." 


388  THE   CHAPERON 

"I'll  tell  them,"  said  Brederode,  dubiously;  and  a  few  words 
passed  between  the  three. 

"I  knew  what  they'd  answer,"  he  announced,  in  a  moment. 
"They  say  they  won't  do  it  for  a  million.  'Every  man  has 
his  price,'  is  a  proverb  that  doesn't  count  with  Dutchmen, 
where  principles  are  concerned.  Now,  I'm  going  to  try  and 
force  a  way,  but  I'm  afraid  'Mascotte'  hasn't  force  enough, 
and  if  not,  it's  all  up,  for  here  comes  MacNairne." 

I  looked  back  and  saw  my  uncle-in-law  picking  his  way 
toward  us  from  boat  to  barge,  from  barge  to  lighter.  He  had 
lost  his  hat  in  that  argument  of  which  I  had  not  seen  the  end, 
but  he  had  not  lost  his  determination,  and  at  his  present  rate 
he  would  reach  us  in  about  two  minutes. 

Suddenly  Alb  put  on  full  speed  ahead,  and  gallantly  little 
"Mascotte"  rammed  her  dainty  nose  between  the  two  black 
and  bulky  barges.  But  her  strength  did  not  match  her  courage. 
She  got  only  a  pinching  for  her  pains,  and,  as  Alb  exclaimed, 
we  were  caught. 

"I'm  sorry,"  he  said.  "I've  done  all  I  could,  and  don't 
see  what  I  can  do  more,  short  of  knocking  poor  MacNairne  on 
the  head  with  a  pole. " 

"You've  been  a  brick,  and  I  won't  forget  it,"  said  I.  A 
strange  coolness  had  come  upon  me  with  the  knowledge  that 
the  worst  was  inevitable.  I  felt  that  my  small-sword  alone 
could  win  me  through.  "All  I  ask  is  that,  whatever  I  do  or 
say,  you'll  stand  by  me,"  I  finished. 

"Have  you  a  plan  ?"  he  asked. 

"Part  of  a  plan.  I  - 

Before  I  had  a  chance  to  finish  either  plan  or  sentence  the 
enemy  was  upon  us.  I  heard  him  coming,  and  turned  round 
just  in  time  to  meet  my  aunt's  husband  face  to  face  as,  climb 
ing  across  from  the  nearest  barge,  he  leaped  over  the  rail  on  to 
our  little  deck. 


At  his  present  rate  he  would  reach  us  in  about  two  minutes 


XXXVI 

I  SMILED  brilliantly  at  the  dear  fellow.  I  sprang  to  him, 
holding  out  a  welcoming  hand. 
"Why,   Sir  Alec,  this  w   a   delightful   surprise!"    I 
exclaimed.   "Where  did  you  come  from  ?  I  thought  I 
had  lost  you,  at  Leeu warden." 

So  utterly  was  he  dumfounded,  not  to  say  flabbergasted, 
by  the  manner  of  his  reception,  that  I  had  time  to  spring  these 
three  quickly  following  remarks  upon  him  before  he  was  able 
to  answer. 

When  he  did,  it  was  with  a  sledge-hammer.  "Well,  I'm 
d  —  d!"  said  he. 

I  stared  in  gentle  amazement;  then,  glancing  quickly  at 
Alb,  appeared  suddenly  to  apprehend  his  meaning. 

"Why,  of  course,  you  must  be  surprised  to  find  me  on  a 
boat  with  Jonkheer  Brederode. " 

"You  lied  to  me  at  Leeuwarden,"  went  on  Sir  Alec.  He 
was  never  a  man  to  mince  words,  as  I  noticed  when  visiting 
my  aunt.  Poor,  pretty,  flirtatious  Aunt  Fay!" 

I  now  gathered  dignity.  My  simple  delight  at  an  unex 
pected  meeting  with  a  relative  (in  law)  in  a  foreign  waterway, 
froze  into  virtuous  indignation. 

"Really,  Sir  Alec,  I  am  at  a  loss  to  understand  you,"  I 
said.  "I  greet  you  in  the  most  friendly " 

"Because  you're  a  scoundrel  and  a  hypocrite,"  said  he. 

This  interruption  I  scorned  to  notice,  save  by  proceeding 
as  I  had  intended  to  proceed. 

"And  you  insult  me.  What  do  you  mean,  Sir  Alec  Mac- 
Nairne  ?" 

389 


390  THE   CHAPERON 

"I  mean"  —  he  caught  me  up  without  hesitation  —  "that 
you,  though  you  pretended  to  sympathize  when  I  confided  in 
you,  were  in  league  with  Rudolph  Brederode  to  outwit  and 
deceive  me  in  the  most  shameless  way." 

"You  forget  yourself,"  said  Brederode,  turning  red,  and 
contriving  to  keep  his  dignity  in  spite  of  Hendrik's  sopping 
overalls.  "I  have  never  deceived  or  injured  you.  If  this  were 
my  boat,  I  should  have  to  ask  — 

"Don't  try  that  on,"  said  Sir  Alec,  scornfully.  "It  is  your 
boat." 

"It  happens  to  be  the  property  of  Miss  Van  Buren,  a  young 
American  lady,  for  whom  I'm  acting  as  skipper,"  returned 
Alb. 

"Rot,"  was  the  terse  comment  of  my  uncle-in-law. 

Alb  bit  his  lip,  and  his  eyes  were  growing  dangerous.  I 
had  seen  that  look  on  his  face  once  or  twice. 

"And  he's  engaged  to  her,"  said  I. 

That  is,  something  inside  of  me  popped  out  those  words, 
and  there  they  were,  spoken,  not  to  be  taken  back.  Alb  and 
I  looked  at  each  other.  He  flushed  again.  But  he  did  not  speak. 

"Produce  this  Miss  Van  Buren,"  sneered  Sir  Alec. 

"I  will,"  I  promised.  "But  before  I  do,  calm  yourself. 
You  are  in  no  fit  state  to  speak  to  ladies." 

"I  wish  to  talk  to  my  wife,"  said  he. 

"Aunt  Fay  is  not  on  board  this  boat,  and  never  has  been, " 
I  pronounced,  each  nerve  on  edge  lest  one  lovely  feminine 
head  or  another  should  pop  up  from  below.  I  knew  well  that 
we  owed  the  extraordinary  obedience  of  the  girls  to  the  mag 
netic  influence  of  that  remarkable  woman  their  chaperon,  and 
how  long  she  could  continue  to  exert  the  charm  which  meshed 
them  in  the  cabin,  as  Vivien  meshed  Merlin  in  the  hollow  oak, 
it  was  impossible  to  guess.  At  any  instant  we  might  hear  a 
girlish  voice  calling  the  name  of  Lady  MacNairne.  Even  if 
Tibe  —  but  I  dared  not  think  of  Tibe.  " 


RONALD  LESTER  STARR'S  POINT  OF  VIEW  391 

Horatius  holding  his  bridge  alone,  was  nothing  compared 
to  me.  No  one  could  help  me  now. 

"Pooh !  Do  you  expect  me  to  believe  that  ?  After  what  hap 
pened  at  Leeu warden  —  when  I  trusted  you  ?" 

"You  trusted  me,"  said  I,  coldly,  "with  good  reason,  and 
it  would  be  well  if  you  did  so  again.  Kindly  state  what,  from 
your  point  of  view,  did  happen  at  Leeuwarden  to  bring  this 
storm  of  unmerited  abuse  upon  my  head." 

"I  dare  say  it  would  be  convenient  to  you  to  forget.  I 
met  you  with  Brederode  at  the  Kermess.  You  seized  me  and 
prevented  me  from  following  him  as  I  wished  to  do.  Then, 
when  he  had  got  out  of  my  way,  you  assured  me  that  you'd 
find  him.  You  said  you  were  not  with  him  on  his  boat,  that  you 
hadn't  been  together  ten  minutes  — 

"Neither  had  we,"  said  I.  "That  was  perfectly  true.  And 
I'm  not  on  his  boat.  As  he  told  you,  I'm  on  Miss  Van  Buren's. 
And  if  I  didn't  look  you  up  to  tell  you  where  you  could  find 
Jonkheer  Brederode,  it  was  because  I  thought  you  would  only 
lose  your  dignity  by  meeting  him,  and  do  Aunt  Fay  and  your 
self  both  more  harm  than  good.  I  know  for  a  certainty  that 
Alb  —  that  Brederode  hasn't  seen  Aunt  Fay  since  July  any 
how.  And  why  should  I  let  you  and  your  stupid  suspicions 
make  trouble  between  a  very  good  fellow  and  —  and  —  the 
girl  he's  in  love  with  ?" 

This  time  I  did  not  meet  Alb's  eyes.  I  was  looking  straight 
and  with  a  noble  defiance  into  Sir  Alec's. 

"You  are  very  high  and  mighty,"  said  he.  "But  I'm  not 
to  be  fooled  again  by  either  of  you.  I've  been  chasing  Brede 
rode  for  weeks  in  that  beastly  motor-launch,  and  I'm  about 
sick  of  the  whole  business.  I've  got  him  now,  and  you,  too. 
And  though  you  may  both  tell  me  till  you're  blue  in  the  face 
that  my  wife  hasn't  been  and  isn't  on  this  boat,  I  won't  be 
lieve  you  till  I've  searched  every  hole  and  corner  of  it." 

"Perhaps  I  had  better  go  and  ask  Miss  Van  Buren  whether 


392  THE   CHAPERON 

she  will  kindly  permit  my  uncle-in-law  to  make  such  an  ex 
amination  of  her  property,"  I  said,  with  the  ice  of  conscious 
rectitude  in  my  voice. 

"Very  well,"  returned  Sir  Alec.  "Go  and  fetch  her." 

With  head  aloft,  I  stalked  to  the  top  of  the  steps  which  I 
defy  any  human  being  to  descend  with  dignity. 

What  would  happen  between  Sir  Alec  and  Alb  while  I  was 
gone,  or  what  I  should  say  when  I  got  below,  I  knew  not.  I 
could  only  trust  to  luck.  Was  it  going  to  turn  out  in  vain, 
I  asked  myself,  that  all  my  life  I  have  been  called  "lucky 
Starr"? 

The  canvas  curtain  at  the  door  of  the  outer  cabin,  which 
protects  the  ladies  from  the  heat  of  the  motor-room,  was  un 
furled  and  hanging  at  length.  Standing  behind  it,  I  spoke  Miss 
Van  Buren's  name. 

All  was  silent  on  the  other  side.  But,  after  a  delay  of  a  few 
seconds,  Nell  half  pushed  aside  the  heavy  folds  of  canvas 
and  looked  out  at  me.  Her  charming  face  was,  for  an  instant, 
within  twelve  inches  of  mine.  I  drew  back  in  resignation. 
With  my  own  hand  I  had  given  her  to  another.  Whether  or 
no  she  would  eventually  become  his,  I  could  not  tell,  but  I 
felt  that,  after  what  I  had  done,  she  would  never  belong  to  me. 

There  was,  however,  very  little  time  to  think  of  that  now. 
My  business  was  pressing. 

"Come  outside  in  the  passage  a  minute,"  I  said,  in  a  low 
voice,  still  hearing  no  sound  from  the  other  side  of  the  curtain. 
"I  want  to  speak  to  you." 

"  Lady  MacNairne  -        "  she  began . 

I  put  my  finger  to  my  lips.  "Sh !"  said  I. 

"Oh,  did  you  know  she  was  ill  ?"  asked  Nell. 

I  shook  my  head. 

"She  is,  poor  dear.  She  had  the  most  sudden  attack,  just 
after  we  came  down,  and  Phyllis  and  I  haven't  been  able  to 
leave  her.  She  wouldn't  let  one  of  us  go  up  to  tell  you." 


RONALD  LESTER  STARR'S  POINT  OF  VIEW  393 

"Wonderful  little  woman!"  I  could  scarcely  refrain  from 
exclaiming.  "Her  cleverness  —  I  mean  her  consideration  — 
is  extraordinary." 

"It  was  her  heart,"  explained  Nell.  "She's  been  lying 
down  ever  since,  holding  Phyllis's  hand  and  mine.  But  she's 
better  now,  and  I'm  not  sure  she  hasn't  gone  to  sleep,  for  when 
I  heard  you  call  me,  and  tried  to  slip  my  hand  out  of  hers,  she 
didn't  seem  to  notice. y 

"She  wouldn't,"  I  said  — to  myself.  "Where's  Tibe?"  I 
asked  aloud. 

"She's  using  him  for  a  footstool." 

All  accounted  for  and  under  control !  Yes ;  thrice  wonder 
ful  little  woman. 

"We  couldn't  see  anything  of  the  race  after  all,"  went  on 
Nell.  "Did  we  beat?" 

"That's  what  I've  come  to  talk  to  you  about,"  I  said,  not 
knowing  in  the  least  what  I  was  going  to  say  next.  "It  turned 
out,"  I  went  on  slowly,  "that  a  man  I  —  er  —  know,  was  on 
board  the  boat  we  were  racing.  We  beat  it,  but  we  didn't  beat 
him;  for  he's  walked  on  board  since  we've  been  jammed  by  a 
couple  of  brutes  on  barges.  Oh,  no  harm  done  —  don't  be 
worried.  The  man  is  —  in  fact  —  Sir  Alec  MacNairne." 

"Oh,  the  nice  man  we  met  at  Amsterdam,  and  again  at 
Leeuwarden,  when  we  —  we  —  "  She  blushed  at  the  recollec 
tion.  "He's  a  distant  relation  of " 

"Hush!  Please  don't  speak  her  name  or  his  loud  enough 
for  either  to  hear,"  I  whispered.  "I  can't  explain  all  to  you; 
but  —  will  you  trust  me  ?" 

"Why,  of  course,"  said  my  lost  Angel. 

"Sir  Alec  MacNairne  thinks  his  wife  is  on  board,  and  he's 
very  angry  with  Brederode  and  me,  because,  you  see,  he  and 
his  wife  have  had  a  quarrel,"  I  vaguely  explained.  "He's  got 
everything  mixed  up;  and  because  he's  heard  that  a  Lady 
MacNairne's  on  this  boat,  he's  been  chasing  us,  full  of  fury. 


394  THE   CHAPERON 

He's  silly  enough  to  believe  that  Brederode's  in  love  with  his 
wife,  and  —  I  can't  make  you  understand  precisely  why,  with 
out  giving  away  a  secret  of  my  aunt's  —  that  nonsense  of  his  is 
likely  to  work  our  Lady  MacNairne  a  lot  of  harm." 

"What  a  shame!"  exclaimed  sympathetic  but  puzzled  Nell. 
"Can't  anything  be  done  about  it  ?" 

"Something  has  been  done,"  said  I.  "That's  what  I  want 
you  to  forgive  me  for,  and  —  and  help  me  to  carry  out,  for 
Aunt  Fay's  sake.  Poor  Aunt  Fay,  who's  suffering  with  her 
heart  at  this  minute!  What  will  she  have  to  endure,  if  you 
don't  stand  by  her ! " 

"I'll  stand  by  her  with  all  my  might  and  main,"  said  Nell. 
"What  can  I  do?" 

"I'm  breaking  it  to  you  —  by  degrees.  The  first  degree  is, 
I  told  Sir  Alec  that  Alb  was  —  is  —  in  love  with  you." 

"Oh  —  how  could  you  ?" 

"It  was  fatally  easy.  And  then  I  said  you  were  engaged 
to  him.  That's  the  second  degree;  and  the  third  and  last  is, 
that  I  beg  and  implore  you  to  come  on  deck  with  me,  and  tell 
him  it's  true." 

The  girl  had  actually  turned  pale.  "I  can't  possibly.  Any 
thing  else  —  but  not  that,"  she  said. 

"It's  the  one  thing  to  save  my  poor  aunt.  Miss  Van  Buren 
—  Nell  —  I  tell  you  frankly,  if  you  won't  do  this,  she  —  I'm 
afraid  she  won't  much  longer  be  Lady  MacNairne." 

"Good  gracious !  How  awful !"  stammered  the  girl. 

"Tragic!"  I  agreed.  "And  for  me  —  but  I  say  nothing  of 
my  feelings.  You  know  how  devoted  I  am  to  my  aunt.  She'll 
be  alone  in  the  world  —  with  Tibe  —  if  you  refuse  to  sacrifice 
yourself  in  this  way  for  her." 

Nell's  face  was  now  white  and  set.  I  felt  a  brute;  but  what 
was  I  to  do  ?  For  the  sake  of  every  one  concerned,  I  couldn't 
have  the  L.C.P.  exposed,  or  be  exposed  myself,  and  the  trip 
broken  up  at  the  last,  in  contumely  for  all. 


RONALD  LESTER  STARR'S  POINT  OF  VIEW  395 

I  hung  on  her  lips. 

"Where  is  Jonkheer  Brederode  ?"  she  asked. 

"He's  on  deck,  too." 

"And  you  expect  me  to  say  —  before  him  —  that " 

"He's  said  the  same,  already.  Or,  at  least,  he  agreed  while  I 
said  it." 

"Oh!  Well,  I  don't  see  how  I'm  to  go  through  with  it.  But 
for  Lady  MacNairne's  sake,  I'll  — do  it.  Come,  let's  get  it  over. " 

"Wait  a  minute,"  I  urged,  restraining  her  impatience.  "I 
must  explain  a  little  more,  first.  After  Sir  Alec  has  talked 
with  you,  he'll  want  to  come  below  to  the  cabins,  and  every 
where,  searching  for  his  wife;  for  he  won't  believe,  till  he's 
made  sure  with  his  own  eyes,  that  she's  not  on  board.  If 
you're  willing  that  he  should,  I  am;  but  don't  tell  him  that  a 
person  named  Lady  MacNairne's  really  with  us,  or  I  can't 
answer  for  the  consequences." 

"If  he  comes  below,  he'll  see  her." 

"That  doesn't  matter,  as  they've  never  met;  so  long  as  he 
doesn't  know  her  name." 

"Very  well,  he  shan't  learn  it  from  me." 

"And  he  mustn't  from  Miss  Rivers.  Will  you  warn  your 
stepsister,  not  under  any  provocation  whatever,  to  speak  the 
name  of  Lady  MacNairne  ?" 

"I  will.  But  why  couldn't  you  have  said  Phil  was  engaged 
to  Jonkheer  Brederode  ?" 

"Robert  van  Buren  wouldn't  have  stood  it." 

"I  see.  But  what  about  him  ?  It's  no  use  my  telling  him 
anything;  he  would  go  and  do  the  opposite.  He's  sitting  in 
the  outer  cabin,  alone,  where  Lady  MacNairne  asked  him  to 
stay  and  keep  guard  over  her,  while  Phyllis  and  I  stopped 
beside  her  in  the  inner  room. 

"Dear  Aunt  Fay,"  I  murmured.  "If  you'll  just  warn  Miss 
Rivers,  and  tell  my  aunt  that  she'd  better  be  asleep  when  Sir 
Alec  MacNairne  peeps  in,  I'll  tackle  your  cousin." 


396  THE   CHAPERON 

"Come,  then,"  said  Nell. 

And  I  followed  her  into  that  tasteful  little  cabin  which,  in 
the  dim  past,  I  decorated  for  my  own  use. 

Luckily,  it  is  a  far  more  difficult  task  to  persuade  Robert 
van  Buren  to  say  something  than  not  to  say  anything  at  all; 
and  though  he  was  puzzled,  and  not  too  pleased  at  being 
plunged  into  a  mystery,  I  extorted  from  him  a  promise  to 
glare  as  much  as  he  liked  at  the  intruder  but  not  on  any  ac 
count  to  speak. 

"He  won't  know  you  understand  English,"  I  said,  deter 
mining  to  strengthen  in  Sir  Alec's  mind,  by  every  means  in  my 
power,  the  impression  of  Robert's  Dutchness. 

I  had  just  arranged  matters  when  Nell  came  back  with  the 
strained  air  of  a  martyr  who  hears  the  lions.  We  went  up  on 
deck  together,  and  a  glance  showed  Sir  Alec  that  no  intro 
duction  was  needed. 

"What!  This  is  Miss  Van  Buren,  the  young  lady  who  is 
engaged  to  marry  Jonkheer  Brederode !"  he  exclaimed. 

Nell  bowed,  thankful  no  doubt  that  his  way  of  putting  it 
relieved  her  of  the  necessity  for  words. 

"You  said  in  Leeuwarden  that  you  didn't  know  the  two 
young  ladies  in  Dutch  costumes,"  my  uncle-in-law  flung  at  me. 

"You  may  have  gathered  that  impression.  I  certainly 
never  said  so,"  I  answered  promptly  —  and  truthfully  too. 
"Perhaps  I  thought,  at  the  time,  that  the  less  attention  be 
stowed  on  the  ladies  the  better  they  would  be  pleased,"  I 
added. 

"You  were  right,"  remarked  Nell,  bravely. 

"Oh,  very  well,"  said  Sir  Alec.  Then,  abruptly,  "How's 
the  dog?" 

"He's  as  nice  as  ever,"  replied  the  girl. 

Silence  for  an  instant.  MacNairne  was  visibly  reflecting. 
The  sight  of  Miss  Van  Buren,  and  her  tacit  confirmation  of 
my  statement,  was  cooling  him  down.  He  is  a  gentleman, 


RONALD  LESTER  STARR'S  POINT  OF  VIEW  397 

and  a  good  fellow  when  not  in  one  of  his  jealous  rages;  and 
evidently  he  did  not  wish  to  distress  her,  or  shake  her  faith 
in  a  man  she  was  going  to  marry. 

"I  expected  to  find  my  wife  on  board  this  boat,"  he  said 
at  last  abruptly.  "Is  she  here  ?" 

"No,"  said  Nell,  "she  is  not,  and  never  has  been." 

"It's  your  boat  —  not  Brederode's  ?" 

"It's  my  boat.  He  is  —  kindly  acting  as  our  skipper.  If  you 
would  care  to  go  below,  and  satisfy  yourself  that  La  —  that 
your  wife  isn't  on  board,  please  do  so." 

Sir  Alec  looked  at  her,  and  she  looked  at  him,  straight  in 
the  eyes,  as  why  should  she  not,  poor  girl,  having  no  guilty 
secret  of  her  own  to  conceal  ? 

"Thank  you,"  he  said.  "If  I've  your  word  for  it,  that's 
enough.  I  won't  go  below.  Instead,  I  will  bid  you  good  after 
noon,  and  get  back  to  my  own  boat  —  if  I  can.  But  first  — 
Starr,  do  you  know  where  my  wife  is  ?  " 

"I  don't,"  said  I.  "That  I  swear.  I  only  wish  I  did,  and  I'd 
tell  you  like  a  shot.  Why  don't  you  advertise  in  the  papers: 
'Come  home.  Forget  and  forgive.  I'll  do  the  same. '  Or  some 
thing  of  the  sort  ?  I'm  perfectly  sure  that  would  fetch  her, 
for  she's  very  fond  of  you,  you  know  —  or  ought  to  know. 
She  told  me  once  that,  in  spite  of  all,  you  were  one  of  the  best 
fellows  in  the  world." 

"Did  she  really  ?"  the  poor  chap  asked,  his  face  flushing 
up  —  not  with  rage  this  time. 

"She  did,  indeed." 

"Thank  you,"  he  said  absent-mindedly.  He  thought  for 
a  moment,  and  then  spoke  quickly,  "Well,  Brederode,  I'm 
not  sure  that  I  oughtn't  to  apologize." 

"I  am  sure,  Sir  Alec,"  Alb  answered.  But  he  was  smiling. 

"Here  goes,  then."  The  big  Scotsman  held  out  his  hand. 
The  tall  Dutchman  in  the  blue  overalls  took  it. 

"I  don't  know   about  you,  Starr,"  said  Sir  Alec.  "I'm 


398  THE   CHAPERON 

inclined  to  feel  that  you,  at  all  events,  have  treated  me  rather 

badly.  As  my  wife's  — 

"I've  meant  well  all  through,"  I  broke  in  hurriedly.  "And 
just  now  I  gave  you  a  bit  of  good  advice.  You'll  thank  me 
when  you've  taken  it." 

"Perhaps  I  wi'l  take  it,"  he  muttered. 

"Hurrah!"  said  Alb.  "The  grand  pressure  of  the  whole 
flock  of  us  is  forcing  the  barrier  apart.  We  shall  make  our 
way  through  in  a  few  minutes  now." 

"Good-by,  then,  all,"  exclaimed  Sir  Alec.  "I  must  be  get 
ting  back  to  my  boat.  The  bargees  don't  mind  me  much  now 
it's  dawned  on  their  intelligence  that  I'm  neither  mad  nor  an 
anarchist.  Brederode,  I  congratulate  you  on  your  engagement 
to  Miss  Van  Buren.  I  hope,  Miss  Van  Buren,  that  you  will  be 
very  happy.  As  for  me,  probably  I  shall  leave  Holland  to-mor 
row." 

With  that  he  turned  his  back  upon  us  resolutely  and  made 
off,  scrambling  on  board  the  barge  jammed  nearest  "Mas- 
cotte's"  side.  So  he  went  on,  from  one  to  another,  until  he  had 
disappeared  from  sight. 

"Miss  Van  Buren,"  said  Brederode,  "can  you  forgive  us  ?" 

"It  is  hard,"  she  said,  picking  up  a  fold  of  her  white  dress 
and  playing  with  it  nervously.  "But  we  won't  talk  of  it  any 
more  —  ever.  I  must  go  now,  and  see  how  Lady  MacNairne  is." 

"Not  yet.  One  moment.  There's  something  I  must  say  in  jus 
tice  to  myself,"  Brederode  persisted. 

She  hesitated.  And  there  was  that  in  her  face,  that  in  his 
voice,  which  made  me  realize  suddenly  that  my  explanations 
were  not  needed.  I  could  trust  Alb  not  to  give  me  away,* 
and,  as  for  him,  he  had  forgotten  all  about  me  —  so  had  Nell. 
And  I  crept  off  unnoticed. 

The  one  place  for  me  was  on  board  "Waterspin,"  and  before 
the  barrier  had  done  more  than  show  signs  of  yielding  I 
crawled  over,  slinking  into  my  cabin. 


RONALD  LESTER  STARR'S  POINT  OF  VIEW  399 

"Well,  well!"  I  said  to  myself.  "Well,  well!"  I  said  again, 
with  my  head  between  my  hands  as  I  sat  on  my  lonely  bunk. 
There  seemed  nothing  else  to  say. 

I  stayed  for  a  long  time,  until  the  press  had  broken,  and 
we  were  going  on  at  full  speed  once  more.  Then  I  went  to 
a  window  of  the  kitchen,  which  Phyllis  so  much  admired,  and 
looked  out.  I  could  see  the  deck  of  "Mascotte,"  and  Brederoo!e 
and  Nell,  who  were  still  alone  there  together. 

"Well,  well!"  I  repeated  idiotically;  "it's  I  who  did  that. 
If  it  hadn't  been  for  me  —  but  I  don't  know.  I  suppose  it  was 
bound  to  happen,  anyway.  I  wonder  ?" 

Then  I  returned  to  my  cabin  and  flitted  about  restlessly. 
Soon  I  became  conscious  that  I  was  humming  an  air.  It  was 
not,  in  itself,  a  sad  air;  but  there  was  a  certain  sadness  as  well 
as  appropriateness  in  its  meaning  for  me 

Giving  agreeable  girls  away — 

One  for  you,  and  one  for  you,  but  never  (how  does  it  go?), 
never  one  for  me ! 

We  were  stopping.  We  had  come  to  Middelburg.  I  looked 
out  again.  Nell  was  on  deck  alone.  Doubtless  Alb  had  at  last 
gone  below  to  the  motor-room,  and  was  exchanging  the  blue 
overalls  for  something  more  decorous.  Would  he,  even  for 
the  sake  of  conventionality,  have  left  her  at  such  a  moment 
unless  everything  were  settled  ? 

"Mascotte"  and  "Waterspin"  were  at  rest,  and  I  could  avail 
myself  of  Alb's  absence  to  find  out  if  I  liked.  I  was  not  at  all 
sure  that  I  did  like.  Nevertheless,  something  urged  me  to  go, 
and  before  I  quite  knew  how  or  why  I  had  come  there,  I 
stood  beside  the  pretty  white  figure.  Nell  looked  up  at  me, 
radiant  with  emotion. 

"Oh,  Mr.  Starr,  you  were  just  the  one  I  wanted  to  see," 
she  exclaimed.  "I  was  willing  you  to  come." 


400  THE   CHAPERON 

"Well,  I  came,"  I  said,  smiling.  "I'm  glad  you  want  me." 

"I  want  to  ask  you  what  to  do.  I  sent  him  away.  You  know, 
we  must  stop  on  board  till  Lady  MacNairne's  better,  so  — 
there's  no  hurry,  and  —  he  had  to  change.  At  first  he  wouldn't 
go  without  an  answer.  But  I  told  him  I  must  have  ten  minutes 
to  make  up  my  mind.  He's  explained  everything.  He  was 
never  to  blame.  It  was  all  Freule  Menela's  fault  —  and  mine. 
Please  say  what  you  think.  You  know  him  so -well;  you're 
old  friends.  There's  no  one  else  I  can  talk  to,  and  —  I  feel 
somehow  —  I  have  for  a  long  time  —  almost  as  if  you  were 
a  kind  of  —  adopted  brother." 

Brother  again!  Blow  after  blow;  let  them  fall  now,  one 
upon  another.  I  had  feared  this,  yet  would  not  expect  it. 
But  I  suppose  I  must  unwittingly  have  been  born  a  brother. 

"That's  right,"  said  I.  "Go  on  — little  sister."  The  words 
were  getting  quite  familiar  now. 

"He  says  that  he  has  never  stopped  loving  me  —  dreadfully 
—  desperately  —  from  the  very  first.  But  I  was  so  sure  it  was 
only  a  fancy,  and  —  and  that  when  I  was  so  bad  to  him,  and 
Phyllis  so  kind,  he  began  to  care  for  her  instead.  Just  now, 
when  you  said  I  must  pretend  to  be  engaged  to  him,  I  was 
thinking  how  horrid  it  would  be  for  him  to  feel,  'Oh,  if  it  were 
only  Phyllis ! '  Didn't  you  suppose  he  was  in  love  with  Phyllis  ?" 

"Never,"  I  heard  myself  assuring  her;  "never." 

"I'm  so  glad.  You're  sure,  then,  that  he  knows  his  own 
mind,  that  he  isn't  asking  me  to  go  on  being  really  engaged 
to  him  just  to  save  my  feelings  after  that  scene  with  Sir  Alec 
MacNairne  ?" 

"I'm  dead  sure,"  I  said. 

"You  perfect  dear !  I  do  like  you.  Oh,  wasn't  it  too  funny  — 
I  can  say  it,  now  we're  brother  and  sister  —  he  thought  I 
might  be  in  love  with  you." 

"Owl!" I  remarked. 

"And  all  the  time  I  was  so  horribly  afraid  he  might  suspect 


RONALD  LESTER  STARR'S  POINT  OF  VIEW  401 

I  cared  that  I  would  hardly  speak  a  word  to  him.  Besides, 
I  didn't  suppose  he  could  be  bothered  listening  to  anything 
7  might  have  to  say.  And  I  felt  quite  sorry  for  him  when  Phyl 
lis  was  engaged  to  Robert.  Dear  Phil,  I've  been  horrid  to  her, 
too.  You  see,  she  was  trying  to  persuade  herself  to  take  Ru 
dolph  without  loving  him,  and  I  just  hated  her  for  it." 

"Oh,  that  was  what  you  meant,  then !"  I  exclaimed. 

"What  I  meant?" 

"It  doesn't  matter.  Well,  make  your  mind  easy,  sweet  sister. 
Alb  adores  you  —  has  adored  you  since  the  first  moment  he 
set  eyes  on  you,  and  will  till  he  closes  them  in  death.  That's 
my  conviction  as  his  lifetime  friend.  And  my  advice  is,  go  on 
being  engaged  to  him  until  you  marry  him." 

"Mariner,  what  an  old  trump  you  are !"  broke  in  Brederode. 
And  there  he  was  behind  me,  neat  as  a  pin,  in  his  own  suit 
of  clothes,  and  radiant  in  his  new  suit  of  happiness. 

"I  give  her  to  you,  Alb,"  said  I.  And  then  I  strolled  away 
again,  humming  to  the  air  of  the  Dead  March  in  Saul,  or 
something  equivalent,  those  haunting  words  — 

Giving  agreeable  girls  away — 

One  for  you,  and  one  for  you,  but  never,  nerer  one  for  me  ! 


XXXVII 

I  FELT,  when  I  waked  up  on  the  morning  of  butter- 
market-day  at  Middelburg,  as  if  I  had  not  slept  at  all, 
but  had  listened  throughout  the  night  to  the  sweet,  the 
incredibly  sweet  chimes  that  floated  like  perfume  in 
the  air.  Yet  I  suppose  I  must  have  slept,  for  the  bells  had 
sometimes  stopped  playing  their  one  melodious  tune,  to  tinkle 
in  my  dreams,  "One  for  you,  and  one  for  you,  but  never, 
never  one  for  me  ?" 

The  hotel  is  a  nice  hotel,  and  there  is  a  garden.  After  break 
fast,  I  was  so  tired  of  brotherliness,  of  beaming  at  happy 
couples,  and  hearing  plans  about  weddings,  that  instead  of 
going  forth  to  see  the  famous  Thursday  Middelburg  sights,  at 
which  the  world  comes  from  afar  to  gaze,  I  slipped  away  and 
hid  in  the  garden. 

Phyllis  and  Robert  were  out  together.  Rudolph  and  Nell 
were  out  together.  Both  parties  conscientiously  believed  that 
they  were  out  for  sight-seeing;  that  their  object  was  to  behold 
matrons  and  maidens  in  white  caps,  quaint  fichus,  meek, 
straight  bodices,  and  swelling  skirts;  to  admire  pretty  faces, 
with  tinkling  gold  ornaments  at  their  temples;  to  stare  at 
young  arms,  red  under  incredibly  tight  short  sleeves,  as  they 
bore  baskets  of  eggs  or  pats  of  butter  to  market.  How  well  I 
knew  the  whole  scene  from  photographs !  —  the  bell-like  figures 
of  the  women;  the  booths  in  the  big  market  square;  and  the 
cool  arcades  of  the  butter-market.  How  well  I  knew,  too,  that 
neither  Phyllis  and  Robert,  nor  Rudolph  and  Nell  would  see 
anything  at  all,  or  remember  it,  if  by  accident  they  did  see  aught 
save  each  other. 

402 


RONALD  LESTER  STARR'S  POINT  OP  VIEW  403 

"This,"  I  said  to  myself,  "is  the  end.  We  may  go  back  to 
Rotterdam  together,  if  we  like.  But  everything's  as  much 
changed  as  if  it  were  another  party.  And  this,  this  is  what  I've 
slaved  for  —  fibbed  for  —  plotted  for !  'Giving  agreeable  girls 
away!'  Faugh!"  I  felt  as  much  injured  as  if  I  were  a  mis 
understood  saint,  though,  when  one  comes  to  look  at  it,  per 
haps  I  have  not  always  played  precisely  the  part  of  saint. 

While  I  lolled  gloomily  on  an  extremely  uncomfortable 
seat,  not  meant  for  lolling,  I  heard  a  faint  rustling  in  the 
grass  behind  me,  and  Tibe  appeared,  to  lay  his  head,  in  a 
matter-of-course  way,  upon  my  knee. 

"Where's  your  mistress  ?"  I  asked  mechanically.  "Have 
you  changed,  too,  like  all  the  rest,  and  left  her  alone  ?" 

"Here  I  am,"  answered  the  L.C.P.,  as  if  the  question  had 
been  addressed  to  her.  "I  thought  you'd  be  m  the  garden,  so 
I  came  to  find  you.  Why  don't  you  go  out  and  see  things  ?" 

"Why  don't  you  ?"  I  echoed. 

"Because  I  didn't  like  to  feel  that  you  were  all  by  your 
self,"  she  answered. 

"You  needn't  have  troubled  about  me,"  I  said.  "Nobody 
else  does." 

She  laughed  that  quaint,  quiet  little  laugh,  which  suits  her. 
"That's  different.  They're  engaged  to  each  other  —  all  the 
rest  of  them.  I'm  engaged  —  by  you." 

"Don't  let  that  engagement  keep  you  from  amusing  your 
self,"  I  said.  "The  bargain's  off  now.  I  hired  an  aunt  to  fur 
ther  my  interests.  Every  one  else's  have  been  furthered  except 
mine." 

"That's  not  my  fault,  is  it  ?" 

"I  know  it  isn't,"  I  assured  her.  "Don't  think  I'm  finding 
fault  with  you.  On  the  contrary,  you're  really  a  marvelous 
being.  But  Othello's  occupation's  gone." 

"Yes,"  said  she.  "For  both  of  us.  I  retire  from  aunthood, 
you  retire  from  nephewhood,  with  mutual  respect,  Is  that  it  ?" 


404  THE   CHAPERON 

"I  suppose  so,"  I  gloomily  replied.  "Yet  I'm  loth  to  part 
with  you,  somehow.  You  and  Tibe  are  all  I  have  left  in  the 
world.  But  now  I  must  lose  you  both." 

"You  don't  need  an  aunt,"  she  said. 

"No,  but  I  need  some  one,  I  don't  know  exactly  who. 
Robert  has  snatched  one  of  my  loves,  Rudolph  the  other. 
What  am  I  to  do  ?" 

"Come  to  the  house  and  into  my  sitting-room,  and  let's  talk 
it  over,"  she  suggested  invitingly. 

I  obeyed. 

There  were  flowers  in  her  sitting-room.  There  always  are. 
The  scent  of  late  roses  was  sad,  yet  soothing. 

"Excuse  me  a  minute.  I'm  going  into  the  next  room  to 
make  myself  pretty  before  we  begin  our  talk;  but  I  won't  be 
long,  and  Tibe  shall  keep  you  company,"  said  the  L.C.P. 

"You're  well  enough  as  you  are,"  I  said. 

But  she  went,  smiling;  and  I  hardly  missed  her,  I  was  so 
busy  with  my  own  thoughts. 

One  for  you,  and  one  for  you,  but  never,  never  one  for  me  ? 

I  must  have  hummed  the  words  aloud,  for  her  voice  an 
swered  me,  at  the  door. 

"Never's  a  long  word,  isn't  it  ?" 

I  looked  up. 

A  neat  little  figure  stood  on  the  threshold  between  the  two 
rooms,  the  same  neat  little  figure  I  had  seen  constantly  during 
the  past  eight  weeks.  But  it  was  not  the  same  face.  She  had 
said,  lightly,  that  she  was  going  to  "make  herself  pretty,"  and 
she  had.  She  had  performed  a  miracle.  Or  else  I  was  asleep 
and  dreaming. 

The  gray  hair,  folded  in  wings,  was  gone;  the  blue  glasses 
were  gone;  the  big  bow  under  the  chin  was  gone.  A  pretty 
young  woman  was  smiling  at  me  with  the  pretty  little  mouth  I 
knew;  but  I  did  not  know  the  bright  auburn  hair,  or  the 
beautiful  brown  eyes  that  threw  me  an  amazing  challenge. 


RONALD  LESTER  STARR'S  POINT  OF  VIEW  405 

"Good  heavens !"  I  exclaimed. 

"You  told  me  you  didn't  want  your  aunt  any  more,"  said  she. 

"Who  are  you  ?"  I  asked. 

"Don't  you  remember  ?  I'm  Mary  Milton.  If  you'd  lived 
in  your  own  country,  instead  of  gadding  about  in  foreign  ones, 
you'd  know  who  Mary  Milton  is  without  asking  —  at  least, 
you  would  if  you  ever  read  Tfie  New  York  Meteor." 

"I  suppose  this  is  a  dream,  and  that  I  shall  wake  up,"  said 
I.  "I  slept  very  badly  last  night." 

"Don't  call  for  help  under  the  impression  that  it's  a  night 
mare,"  said  my  late  aunt,  twinkling. 

"I  have  the  impression  that  it's  a  vision,"  I  answered.  "But 
if  you  don't  explain  yourself  instantly,  I  shall  die  '*t  the  dream 
—  of  heart  failure." 

"There's  no  great  mystery,"  said  Miss  Milton.  "I  didn't 
particularly  want  to  disguise  myself,  but  you  advertised  for  an 
aunt,  and  as  it's  difficult  for  a  girl  to  make  herself  look  middle- 
aged,  I  had  to  look  old.  That's  all,  except  that  your  adver 
tisement  came  in  very  handy,  because  —  as  you'd  know  if 
you  were  a  patriotic  American  —  Mary  Milton's  an  enter 
prising  and  rather  celebrated  young  journalist  making  it  her 
business  to  go  round  the  world  for  her  paper  without  spending 
a  penny  of  her  own.  That  was  the  understanding  on  which 
The  Meteor  started  and  '  boomed'  me;  for  it  was  my  own  idea. 
I  wanted  to  see  things,  and  I  hadn't  money  enough  —  so  I 
went  to  call  on  the  editor,  and  —  I  talked  to  him,  till  he  was 
quite  fired  with  the  project.  TJie  Meteor  has  given  me  a  good 
send-off,  and  I've  given  it  good  copy.  My  adventures  —  as 
they  look  in  print  —  have  been  sensational,  and,  I  believe, 
popular.  I've  been  at  it  for  two  years,  and  all  America  has 
read  me,  if  you  haven't.  I've  done  all  the  countries  of  Europe, 
now.  Holland  was  the  last,  and  I  seemed  stuck  on  the  thres 
hold  till  I  saw  your  advertisement.  It  couldn't  have  suited 
better  —  except  for  the  blue  glasses  and  the  wig.  But  one 


406  THE   CHAPERON 

can't  have  everything  as  one  likes  it.  I've  enjoyed  the  tour 
immensely,  thanks  to  you;  and  so  have  the  readers  of  The 
Meteor.  I'm  afraid  I've  teased  you  a  good  deal,  and  spent  a 
lot  of  your  pennies;  but  it  was  fun !  And  you  shall  have  your 
presents  all  back  —  every  one  of  them  Heaps  of  money  will 
be  waiting  for  me  from  my  paper  when  I  get  home  to  New 
York.  They're  delighted  with  my  work;  and  then  I  intend  to 
send  you  a  check  for  all  that  you've  paid  me  to  be  your  aunt.  I 
would  rather,  really;  and  only  keep  one  little  thing  to  remem 
ber  you  by,  perhaps  —  and  our  days  together." 

"Did  you  always  send  back  the  money  spent  by  persons  you 
hypnotized  to  conduct  you  through  the  different  countries  ?" 

"No.  That  was  different.  I  —  don't  exactly  know  why, 
but  it  was.  And  you  needn't  look  at  me  so  queerly.  I've  never 
done  anything  to  be  ashamed  of." 

"I'd  knock  the  person  down  who  suggested  that  you  had," 
said  I.  "I  was  looking  at  you  because  I  was  thinking  you  more 
marvelous  than  ever.  You  hypnotize  me.  You  hypnotize  every 
body.  I  suppose  you  hypnotized  the  editor  into  giving  you 
your  job  ?" 

"Perhaps  I  did,"  she  laughed.  "Often  I  can  get  people  to  do 
things  for  me  —  big  things —  if  I  want  them  to  very  much." 

"You  could  get  me  to  do  anything!"  I  exclaimed.  "You're 
a  witch,  and  what's  more,  I  believe  you're  a  beauty.  Great 
Scott !  How  you  grow  on  one !  Can  this  be  why  —  because 
you  are  You  —  that  in  my  heart  of  hearts  I  don't  care  a  rap  if 
Nell  and  Phyllis  are  engaged  to  others  ?  I  wonder  if  my  in 
stinct  saw  under  the  gray  hair  and  blue  glasses  ?  Look  here, 
are  you  Miss  or  Mrs.  Mary  Milton  ?  and  if  you're  Mrs.,  are 
you  a  widow,  grass,  or  otherwise  ?" 

She  laughed.  "Why,  how  old  do  you  take  me  to  be  ?  As  an 
aunt,  my  official  age  was  over  forty.  But  Miss  Mary  Milton 
isn't  much  more  than  half  Lady  MacNairne's  age.  It's  as 
good  to  throw  off  the  years  as  the  wig  and  the  spectacles.  I'm 


RONALD  LESTER  STARR'S  POINT  OF  VIEW  407 

only  twenty-three.  I  haven't  had  time  to  marry  yet,  thank 
goodness!" 

"Thank  goodness!"  I  echoed.  "And  thank  goodness  for 
You  as  you  are.  You  seem  to  me  perfect." 

"But  I  should  never  have  done  like  this,  for  an  aunt." 

"Certainly  not.  But  to  think  I  should  have  been  wasting 
you  all  this  time  as  a  mere  aunt!" 

"I  wasn't  wasted.  I  saved  you  lots  of  things  —  if  I  didn't 
save  you  money.  Really,  I  did  earn  my  salary  —  though  you 
often  thought  me  officious." 

"Never!" 

"Not  when  I  kept  you  from  proposing  to  Nell  Van  Buren  ?" 

"That  was  a  blessing  in  disguise." 

"Like  myself.  But  truly,  I  only  did  it  to  spare  you  humilia 
tion  in  the  end.  I  knew  all  along  that  she  was  in  love  with 
Rudolph  Brederode  —  though  perhaps  she  wouldn't  have 
found  it  out  so  soon  if  it  hadn't  been  for  me." 

"You've  been  our  good  genius  all  round,"  said  I.  "And 
I  owe  you " 

"Now,  don't  offer  me  more  rewards !  It  was  fun  wheedling 
things  from  you  at  first;  but  bribes  have  been  getting  on  my 
nerves  lately.  The  play  was  played  out." 

"Let's  pretend  it  was  only  a  curtain-raiser,"  I  suggested. 
"I'd  like  you  to  be  eon'  in  the  next  piece,  in  the  leading  part. 
Mary  Milton !  What  a  delicious  name !  And  you're  delicious ! 
It's  a  great  comfort  to  understand  why  I  was  never  really  in 
love  with  either  of  those  Angels.  You  are  not  an  angel  —  but 
I'm  going  to  be  madly  in  love  with  you.  I  feel  it  coming  on. 
I  shall  adore  you." 

"Nonsense !  A  man  mustn't  be  in  love  with  his  aunt." 

"I  strip  you  of  your  aunthood.  But  I  can't  give  you  up  to 
The  Meteor.  If  you  go  to  America,  you  must  personally  con 
duct  Ronald  Lester  Starr.  You  oughtn't  to  mind.  You're  used 
to  looking  after  him." 


408  THE   CHAPERON 

I  took  a  step  toward  her;  but  she  stooped  down  and 
framed  the  ugly  pansy  of  Tibe's  face  between  her  little  hands. 

"Tibe,  what  do  you  say  to  him  ?"  she  asked. 

Tibe  wagged  his  tail. 

While  he  was  wagging,  the  others  came  in.  Their  looks  of 
radiant  new  happiness  changed  to  surprise  at  sight  of  my 
companion.  In  spite  of  the  dress  nobody  recognized  the  pretty 
girl  with  the  wonderful  eyes  and  crisp  masses  of  sparkling 
auburn  hair. 

Yesterday  I  would  have  sacrificed  anything,  up  to  Tibe  him 
self,  to  avoid  explanations,  but  now  I  enjoyed  them. 

Everybody  laughed  and  exclaimed  (except  Robert),  and 
Bred  erode  helped  me  out  so  nobly  that  I  would  have  given 
him  Nell  with  my  own  hand  if  she  had  not  already  made  him 
that  present. 

"It's  like  one  of  Nell's  stories,"  cried  Phyllis.  "Only  she 
used  to  love  to  make  hers  end  sadly." 

"I  should  have  died  if  this  had  ended  sadly,"  Nell  said 
frankly,  holding  out  both  hands  to  Brederode,  with  a  lovely 
look  in  her  eyes. 

"So  should  I,  I'm  sure,"  said  Phyllis.  "Oh,  isn't  it  glorious 
that  we  all  adore  each  other  so!" 

"Do  we  ?"  I  asked  the  Meteor  lady. 

She  smiled.  "I  suppose  it  would  be  a  pity  to  make  a  jarring 
note  in  the  chorus." 

While  she  was  in  that  mood  I  took  out  the  ruby  ring  which 
she  had  said  ought  to  be  an  engagement  ring. 

"With  this  ring  I  thee " 

"No!" 

"Engage  thee  as  my  perpetual  chaperon." 

This  time  she  did  not  draw  back  her  hand.  And  I  kissed  it 
as  I  slipped  on  the  ruby. 

THE    END 


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